


Escabeche

by beforethedawn, ConstructFairytales, Destinyawakened



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cuba, Eventual Smut, Flirting, Hannigram - Freeform, Killing Together, M/M, Marking, Marriage Proposal, Medical Jargon, Murder, Murder Husband, Murder Husbands, Post Season 3 Finale, Puppies, Smut, Will Graham's Dogs - Freeform, dark!Will, discarding of evidence, doting, new dogs, starts right after the fall, taking care of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-09-01 00:02:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 57,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8599099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beforethedawn/pseuds/beforethedawn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstructFairytales/pseuds/ConstructFairytales, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destinyawakened/pseuds/Destinyawakened
Summary: Will and Hannibal are saved by Chiyoh, and are headed toward Cuba, but first Will and Chiyoh must keep Hannibal alive long enough to get there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Edited by us, no beta  
> 2) Written Sept. 1 2015, as a roleplay, transferred over on 11/19/2016 for readers.

The moment Will stepped out of his house, away from his new wife and stepson, he knew that everything would change. He'd be different, there'd be no coming back and pretending it would be normal. When he started to have nightmares of murdering Molly, Will knew more than ever that his mind was never going to come back from this. Like heroin, even being near Hannibal's mindset, and the mindset of another killer, was addicting.

Part of him felt good for it, part of him hated that he felt that way at all. A part of Will hated himself.

When ever he looked at his wife, shot and healing, in her hospital bed, Will knew he'd never not see that again, that he'd always see her with mirrors in her eyes, reflecting himself and his true becoming back at him.

Same with Alana.

With everyone.

He'd made a plan; it wasn't going to be very effective if it didn't go accordingly. Dolarhyde wanted Hannibal, Will would give him Hannibal. He knew it would come down a free for all in the end, but that was okay. That was what had to happen if it meant that taking these serial killers, and the one he might turn into, with down with him.

What Will didn't expect to happen was to be attacked so viciously. He had wordlessly communicated what was about to go down with Hannibal, as they were ever connected right now, like one soul. However, Will was attacked before he could even get his gun out. Will’s cheek gaped wide, he choked on his own blood, and was thrown, landing hard and rough on his knees and hands, falling to his side.

The next five minutes went by more quickly than he could have imagined. Like a blur, he and Hannibal melded into one, with nothing but quick glances between them as they brought down the dragon, both bleeding out through their wounds, likely to die right there, but maybe they wouldn't.

Maybe they'd make it, and they'd end up in a cell together.

Or maybe they'd rot in prison, separated.

There was no going back, he'd murdered a man and enjoyed it, found the act releasing -- _becoming_.

Shaking, he grasped Hannibal's shoulder, able to feel the weakened state his friend was in, and it was then he knew what had to be done.

Will wrapped his arm around Hannibal's shoulder, leaning his head down to rest on Hannibal’s chest, able to hear the metronome beat of Hannibal’s heart, always so calm.

"Forgive me," Will whispered, and dropped them down over the edge of the cliff, into the water, in a free fall that felt like forever, but only really took a few seconds, and then their bodies hit heavy, and cold and fog consumed him, as he tried to keep his arms tight around Hannibal.

Somewhere in the dark crush of water, Will lost Hannibal, and then himself, and everything turned black.

What felt like forever passed, and then, Will felt a hand hauling him upward, toward moonlight. He used whatever strength he had left to hoist himself over the ledge, and onto the deck of a boat, he realized.

Panting and coughing up blood and water, vision blurred, Will looked around, blinking away the salt and cold from his eyes at a slim figure above him, and then the near-lifeless one that Will could see through the open door of a cabin.

_Hannibal._

The slim figure slapped Will across the face to wake him fully, then pushed Will onto his side, so that he could cough water out of his throat.

"Breathe," a female voice commanded Will, and went back to bending over Hannibal.

Will coughed harder, and knew already who it was. He should have known, and should have known that maybe Hannibal knew something like this would happen.

His cheek blazed from the smack, over the already bleeding spot, making him see stars through the pain.

Ignoring it, he crawled into the ship’s cabin, to Hannibal, and grasped his wrist to check for a pulse, he had one, but it was very weak, and Hannibal was hardly breathing.

Wiping wet hair from his eyes, Will forced himself to focus, shaking from the icy cold water. He had been sure they'd be dead by now, but their luck would prove otherwise.

"Hannibal?" it was a rough whisper more than anything. "First aid kit." He looked up at Chiyoh.

"Already opened," she said with a sigh, and nodded at the box open on the floor, with gauze open, and alcohol swabs.

"It's all we have. I did not expect _this_ ," Chiyoh said, frowning at what looked like a red and black mess in Hannibal's side.

Will turned his head away, fitfully, muttering.

"But you expected something," Will stated, seeing that Chiyoh wasn't about to help, so he fumbled through the box himself, mostly clean now because of the ocean water, which still stung the wounds he had, but he'd have to deal with them after...

After what?

"D'you have a knife?" Will asked.

Chiyoh handed Will a folding knife, and frowned.

"What do you plan to do to him?" she asked, darkly, the rifle over her shoulder as always.

"I... plan to dig out the bullet," Will said, plainly, and cut the sweater Hannibal wore to his chest, tearing some of it off to use to sop up the blood. Will unfolded the knife with numb fingers, and started to dig around Hannibal's wound, carefully, wondering if there was bullet at all. He was shot from the back, and the wound went through the front.

"You are going to kill him!" Chiyoh snapped, and moved to grab the knife from Will.

Hannibal's hand, however, shot out, and grasped Will's hand, weakly. His eyes opened as though the act of doing so was an enormous effort, but he seemed to recognize Will, and relaxed, just staring at him, hazily.

Will stilled, glaring at Chiyoh first, but then at Hannibal, and moved over him a little.

"Hannibal, I need to check if you still have pieces of the bullet in you..."

Oh God, he needed to find antibiotics too, painkillers...

No way were they heading to the doctors or a hospital.

Hannibal closed his eyes once, and pulled Will closer, his usually healthy skin the color of ashes.

He pulled Will down, close enough to whisper. "Flame the blade first. Atta boy."

The blade shook in his hand, but he nodded, gazing down at Hannibal's sickly looking face, his listless eyes. Will wiped his face, hair still sopping wet, and found the lighter in the first aid kit, and sterilized the blade, and then pulled out the flashlight and put it in his mouth.

The light shown down into the wound, small, but clean enough, and luckily he could see that there was a couple of silver shards from the dragon’s bullet, and tiny pieces of green and clear glass from the window, and the wine bottle Hannibal had been holding. Will easily flicked them out, onto the deck, and quickly cleaned the wound with an alcohol wipe, blowing on it so it didn't hurt, but he knew that was _useless_ for a wound like this.

"We need to head south, away from here, and stop at the nearest port so I can go to shore and get supplies, “ Will said, his voice trembling a little. “Cuba Maybe.”

Hannibal's hand went to Will's arm, shaking and Hannibal fought to keep his eyes open. "I forgive you, Will," Hannibal whispered, his speech slurring as he began to bleed out from the wound, fresh blood soaking his skin and shirt.

Chiyoh sighed and gave Will her scarf to put over the bullet hole before she walked to the helm of the small fishing boat and began to direct them toward the south.

Will just gave her a nod and held the scarf of Hannibal's wound, the bleeding slowed a little, but it wasn't going to do well if he didn't get him something to fight off infection. God knew what was in that ocean.

He offered Hannibal a little smile. "I should stitch this up, probably."

Hannibal's dark eyes made it up to Will's face, slowly. They looked black against the pallor of his cold, wet skin, and Hannibal watched Will with a weak smile as he breathed in and out, deliberately pacing every breath.

"I can manage that," he whispered, and touched Will's cheek with a _freezing_ hand. "Your own wound will require attention," Hannibal said in an unusually faint voice.

"I'll be fine," Will murmured, stringing up the suture and thread, and then held the bullet wound in place as much as he could, and gave it few runs through. Unfortunately, Will had to attend to the back as well.

"I'm gonna roll you over..." Will said in what he hoped was a steady voice.

Hannibal's eyes closed for a moment, but he nodded, starting to sweat, "whatever you like Will, move me to the carpet near the harpsichord," he whispered. There was definitely no harpsichord in the boat. Hannibal was hallucinating.

Will let out a shaky breath at that, feeling though he was losing Hannibal, and that had not been the point of all this. It was together or nothing.

"Okay," he said, and moved Hannibal to his side, very gently. Will cleaned the entrance of the wound on Hannibal’s back as much as he could with the comically small and inadequate alcohol pads, and then stitched that up too.

Every other wound was mostly superficial.

Will dragged Hannibal to the bed, worrying about sheets later.

"Hey, stay with me, we’re going to dock soon and I'm going to get you some medicine."

Hannibal had lost a _lot_ of blood, and the fall had been hard on him. He had turned his body so that he hit the water first, with his back, saving Will from the impact.

Hannibal still, however, looked _happy_ , even managing a smile with bloodless lips. "You should consider cleaning your face, Will ... if we're to go to dinner." He seemed to be slipping into shock, only able to force himself into lucidity for short moments.

Will nodded, trying not to panic, and looked out to the helm toward Chiyoh, "I will. Don't worry, I won't embarrass you..."

"You could never embarrass me, Will," Hannibal chuckled, fondly, and closed his eyes when his head touched the bed.

Will put a blanket over Hannibal, and laid him back to rest, then went to the deck door, to speak to Chiyoh, "Soonest port, or he won't make it."

"Not far," Chiyoh said, and pointed at a bluff about a mile away, up the coast.

"I should go,” she muttered, “you look like a dead man."

"I _am_ a dead man," Will said plainly, leaning into the doorway. He'd used all the supplies on Hannibal, they'd need more.

"You would be less likely who they expect to see. I'll make you a list...."

He grabbed some paper from the counter, a scratch pad, and scribbled down what he knew of antibiotics and pain-killers, and a list of sterile supplies.

"You must stay out of sight," she sighed, steering toward a small dock as Will scribbled.

A noise from the back of the small cabin turned Chiyoh's head, and she muttered in Japanese when she spotted Hannibal laying in the doorway of the helm of the ship with the blanket around him like a robe, eyes closed.

"We will,” Will handed her the list of things, and then went to help Hannibal back up.  Will pulled Hannibal into his arms, though that was much harder than he thought it would be with all the muscle on Hannibal, and Will’s own wounds.

Hannibal's long legs struggled to help, but he stood unsteadily, leaning against Will as he looked at him with a little smile.

"You returned, already," he said, not even noticing Chiyoh, or the boat, or anything but _Will_ in his condition.

"Yeah, I’m not going anywhere. Want some water?" He asked, gently prodding Hannibal toward the bed, all but carrying him.

He had faith Chiyoh could manage this without his help right now. Sure enough, the boat headed back to the shore, toward the nearest port, and began to near the most isolated dock possible.

Hannibal nodded, slowly in answer to Will’s question, "I have had too much water, but yes, I am ..." he seemed to fade for a moment, his usually proud posture slumped as Chiyoh left the boat with a stern look back at Will. "I would like a drink, very much, Will. I've been saving a bottle, that bottle you gave me, long ago."

Will's breath caught in his throat, his heart beating faster, which made blood ooze from his wounds, tacky, and trying to clot, thankfully. "I know. Here," he said, and got a bottle of water from the counter, hoping something would help until he could get food into Hannibal. Maybe there were crackers or something around here...

Hannibal laid down, slowly, eyes closed. He was deep in his mind palace, with Will, of course, having dinner back in Baltimore, in the middle of a rainstorm, just the two of them. The power was out, and so they were dining by candle-light, and Will had never looked more angelic. "Thank you," Hannibal sighed, "but I should be serving you, Will, I am the host."

Will smiled weakly, helping Hannibal drink some water, and then turned to rummage through the drawer. He found some stale-looking cookies, it would have to do. He popped the container open and pressed half of one into Hannibal mouth, against his lips and tongue. "Eat this."

Hannibal accepted anything from Will's hands, without hesitation. He frowned a little at the taste, confused, but chewed slowly and swallowed, sweat starting to bead on his forehead, as he spoke in a weak voice, "That’s not my best attempt, I'll have to make that one over," he said, puzzled, as he imagined Will's eyes teasing him across the table.

"Anything you want," Will said, feeling such guilt right now that they had not _died_. He put another piece of cookie in Hannibal's mouth, and ate one himself, feeling weak suddenly, everything catching up to him all at once.

Hannibal chewed the cookie slowly, and coughed on it a little, managing to cover his mouth politely with one hand as he did. He sighed, and looked up at Will, imagining that they were dining on 'roast dragon' together. "You were marvellous," he whispered.

Will was still covered in his own blood, he’d gotten most of it off in the ocean, but he was still bleeding.  He nodded with a little smile, feeding Hannibal another bit of cookie, positioning himself under Hannibal’s shoulder to sit him up a little more, much closer to him now. "Thank you," he whispered back, giving Hannibal more from the water bottle.

Hannibal imagined that Will had moved around the elegantly set table to snuggle under his arm, and started to feed him wine from the bottle. Hannibal drank, inexplicably thirsty, and leaned against Will, basking Will's nearness, again. "Are you trying to intoxicate me, Will?" he asked, his closing eyelids when the bottle left his lips.

Will sighed, careful not to clutch at Hannibal, but just held him up over his own good shoulder. "Always," he murmured, making sure Hannibal drank enough, and then offered him more cookies.

Hannibal turned his face away from the cookie, and rested against Will instead, his forehead to Will's temple, his nose tucked against his cheek. "I'm afraid I'm rather full at the moment," he murmured, feeling anything but hungry as his body diverted blood to more urgent matters than his stomach. Hannibal began to breathe a little faster, unable to force himself to keep breathing slowly. Please, go ahead, eat as much as you like. I am ..." Hannibal's voice went soft. "Content to watch you."

Will was anything but hungry, and sighed setting the cookies down.  "Okay... no more." He let Hannibal rest against him, and then wrapped his arm around him gently.

Hannibal smiled when Will did that, and rested one of his freezing hands against Will's chest with a sigh. "I must admit, Will," Hannibal said between quick, shallow breaths. "I enjoy our new closeness."

"Yeah," Will said, quietly, worried more about Hannibal dying than how close they were. Will put his hand over Hannibal's, trying to warm it, and hoped Chiyoh came back soon.

"What was it, Will, what changed your mind?" Hannibal asked, and took a few quick breaths of what he perceived as Will's terrible cologne, but was in fact blood, and salt water.

"Every thing." It was the truth, every thing, Even himself, has changed. He knew he should clean up, but he didn't want to leave Hannibal alone either. Will ripped part of his shirt and pressed it into Hannibal’s shoulder where it still oozed.

Hannibal smiled, with pale, nearly blue lips, only conscious now because Will was here to be conscious for. "I have been waiting years for you," he whispered, and touched Will's cheek again, smearing the blood with chilled fingers.

"I know,” Will said, softly. They could have this talk lucidly later on when Hannibal wasn't pale and near death. Will hesitated, for a moment, then pressed a chaste kiss to Hannibal’s cool, but sweaty, forehead.

Hannibal held his breath when Will kissed his forehead, and smiled again, looping his arm around Will's back as a surge of adrenaline from the press of Will's lips shot through him, waking him up a little. Dark eyes lost their haze, and Hannibal _focused_ on Will, jolted out of his memory palace for a moment of lucidity. "Where are we?"

"A boat, somewhere on the coast,"  Will murmured, into Hannibal's forehead, still holding him, mostly up, and off his side.

Hannibal's face was gray, and sweating, but for the moment, he looked alert, and touched Will's cheek with numb fingers. He looked down at himself, then pressed on one of his own fingernails, and sighed. "Oh, dear."

"Chiyoh has gone to shore to get me things we need for you. I'd have gone, but you've been insistent I stay," Will explained, turning his cheek away from Hannibal's touch, not wanting him to worry over his sake.

Hannibal nodded, slowly, and worked to slow his breathing as much as he could. Hannibal pressed down on Will's fingernails to observe the way blood rushed back to refill his capillaries, then checked the edges of Will’s eyes, and looked relieved. "I require blood. Very soon."

Will had lost a lot, but he wasn't on the verge of death, he'd be fine so long as his blood kept clotting and he sewed himself up sooner rather than later. He'd survived much, much worse.

"I'm hoping Chiyoh knows to bring some... if not then I guess I'm going out."

"My blood type is AB positive," Hannibal whispered, white lipped, “luckily, any type will do..."

"I'd offer you mine, but I think it'd drain me," Will sighed, and slipped from around Hannibal, and pulled a blanket over him, going to the cabin door to check for any sign of their Japanese friend.

"You are far, far too exsanguinated," Hannibal whispered, between shallow breaths, "as much as I would love your blood in my veins."

Chiyoh could be spotted coming back down the road, a large duffel over one shoulder.

Will offered one raised brow back at Hannibal, really to quip something back at him, but was eager to get Chiyoh back in the boat.

"We could use Chiyoh's..."

"She will ..." Hannibal's voice faded, and his eyes closed.

Chiyoh boarded the boat, and dropped the bag near Will.

"This is all I could get. There is a hospital over the hill," she said, wearing a pair of scrubs under her long coat.

In the bag was a bottle of disinfectant, lots of gauze, sutures, needles, an iv line and a bag of saline.

"No drugs, they keep them locked up."

"Well, this will get him the transfusion, at least," Will muttered, going through the bag, sitting it down by Hannibal, and casting a soft smile his direction. "I'll get you started with a transfusion, and then I'll go raid the hospital," he said, teasing, but there was a quiet seriousness in his eyes.

Chiyoh looked puzzled, and tense, suspicious. "What transfusion?" she asked, with a slight growl.

Will glared back over his shoulder at her, not a beat missed, nor an eye batted. “The one you're going to give him. Sit."

Chiyoh looked as though she was going to bolt, but looked at Hannibal, who laid against the bed, motionless and weak, then looked at the determined look on Will's face. "Do you know what you are doing?" she grumbled, and took her jacket off, and sat down arm out.

"Not really," Will stated, having hoped that Hannibal was stable enough to talk him through it, if not he'd beg for her her phone and google his way through.

Hannibal stirred on the bed, and his eyes fluttered open, glassy again, not coherent.

"Hannibal..." Chiyoh called out, without any response from the almost comatose man.

Will sighed, he'd lost the lucid moment, and gave Chiyoh a look. "Do you have a phone? I can look this up quickly and get going."

Chiyoh sighed, and handed Will her phone, her mouth set in a firm, straight line, not happy, but willing to loan some blood, “not too much."

Will was quickly to look up what he needed, and started to get to work, as he did with all things, he was quick and proficient enough, and soon had Chiyoh transferring blood into Hannibal.

"Just enough that he can start making his own," he promised, a little more kind now that he could slowly see color coming back to Hannibal.

Chiyoh made a face when Will drove the needle into her arm, and Hannibal barely moved at all, his chest almost still.

"And how do _you_ know when that will be?" she asked Will, clearly not fond of him.

"You'll have to trust me," Will said, meeting her gaze with one that was purely predatory, almost _playful_ , as if daring her to honestly fight him over this. He might be injured, but he'd do anything right now to give Hannibal what he needed.

Chiyoh was keen enough to understand that look, and sighed her annoyance, but sat on the bed, watching the dark blood transfer into Hannibal's arm.

After twenty minutes of silence, broken only by the sound of waves against the side of the boat, Hannibal's eyes opened. "Will..."

Will was sure it was enough, but waited until he clasped Hannibal's hand again, and leaned over him. "I'm here."

Hannibal's fingers were still chilly, but not as bad as they had been before. He curled them around Will's and gave a gentle squeeze when he noticed their improvised blood bank. "Very clever."

"Had to do something." Will sighed, and motioned to Chiyoh. "Twenty minutes. Is that long enough? I need to go out for other things, I can find more blood. "

Hannibal gave a weak nod, and took a slower, deeper breath than before. "I have been pulled from the reaper's grasp for the time being. Thank you," he said to Will, then Chiyoh, who just nodded.

Will offered Hannibal another bottle of water, and unhooked the toe from each other, pressing cotton against both wounds and then tape.

Will got to his feet again, and rummaged around the bag, and want to the sink to clean himself up.

Chiyoh left to make sure she had not attracted attention to them on her way back to the boat, and Hannibal sat up, slowly. "You should let me stitch that for you, Will."

"I've got it," Will said, washing the last of the blood from his face, wincing. The hole that was gaping there was starting to trickle now that it had been prodded at. Will undid his shirt, and did the same for his shoulder, right at the bend toward his chest where Dolarhyde got him.

Hannibal swallowed, and watched Will, then beckoned him closer. "Do we have sutures?" he asked, willing to spend the last of his energy making sure Will's wounds were tended to.

Will sat down, the supplies from Chiyoh in hand, and he started to string up the needle. "Yeah, but I can do this. Relax."

"Please," Hannibal whispered, unable to get up off the bed yet, but he couldn't bear to see Will's face stitched poorly. He closed his eyes, and turned onto his uninjured side, facing Will, then opened them again. "If you lay here, I will not have to stand."

What was one more scar honestly? Will sighed, and laid down next to Hannibal, shirt half undone.

"Pass the disinfectant, please?" Hannibal murmured, as he took slow breaths, starting to feel fatigue tugging him back under the black waters of his consciousness again. He focused on Will, and the wounds, then his eyes, enjoying the feeling of him laying there, in their strange, blood-soaked version of domesticity.

Will could feel it, empathize with Hannibal, and he shook his head, sitting up again."I'd feel _terribly_ responsible if this took you down. Just tell me what to do..."

"Pass me the antiseptic, the sutures, and lay still," Hannibal murmured, looking at Will's eyes, pale and exhausted, but he forced his hands to be perfectly still as he doused the wound on Will's shoulder with the solution.

Will did, giving everything to Hannibal he needed, and put them on his chest for now so they were where he found find them the easiest. "You are stubborn."

"I simply know my priorities," Hannibal said, and took the sutures with the needle already on the thread out of the sterile packaging, then began to stitch. "Where did you find the equipment?"

Will made a little noise at the pain, but it wasn't as bad as the wound itself. "Chiyoh got some others while there was some on board."

Hannibal was careful with the stitches, keeping them small and knotting them expertly, even in his state. "Any medications?" he asked, finished with Will's shoulder, then beckoned him closer to suture his face.

"No. I have to go out and raid a hospital for them," Will muttered, feeling the tug fatigue setting in, knowing he should have never lied down like this. Will moved closer, presenting his poor, wounded cheek to Hannibal.

Hannibal took a look at Will, so close to him like this, and sighed before he poured some of the disinfectant into the wound.

"It was when he stabbed you here that I became truly _angry_ with him," Hannibal admitted, and chose a very small, very fine needle and sutures, then disinfected his hands. Hannibal pulled the needle and sutures out of the packaging, and began to stitch, very, very carefully.

"I may have miscalculated his approach," Will said, quietly, looking at Hannibal out of the corner of his eye, remembering the pained look on his face just before Dolarhyde lunged at him with the knife.

"We both have our wounds," Hannibal said, consolingly, as he made _tiny_ stitches in Will's cheek, working as though he was stitching together the torn canvas of a priceless work of art. "But we are alive, he is not."

By some miracle they were alive, and Will was going to take that as sign for now. "Barely."

"Barely still counts, in this instance, please stay quiet for the moment, Will..." Hannibal whispered, absorbed in his task. His hands were still cool from not having as much blood as he should, but gentle, and steady for the moment against Will's cheek. He finished the line of stitches, and looked at them, satisfied for now before he let his head drop to the blood and disinfectant soaked bed in exhaustion.

Will stayed still and quiet, and only moved again when Hannibal was done to clean up the mess and put it all away, Chiyoh was outside, likely to keep watch. Will moved to a closet, to find some clean clothes, they would have to wear something without blood all over it if he was to not be noticed. He stripped out of the blood soaked shirt and slacks, and put on the new things, nothing fancy. "Okay, rest, I'm going to get you the medication you need..."

Hannibal opened his eyes as Will changed, and watched him with a soft smile. His back and even his legs had bruises just starting to show through Will's pale skin, like little clouds.

"Do you know what to look for?" Hannibal asked, his voice much quieter than usual.

"I know enough," Will said, pulling the white undershirt on, and then then the plain button up, gazing over his shoulder at Hannibal. "Unless you want to give me a better idea."

"Do we have paper and a pen?" Hannibal asked, unable to get up off the bed.

"I'll remember," Will said, getting more water for Hannibal, and coming to sit beside him, helping him drink it.

Hannibal smiled again, and leaned closer to Will, then drank as he was fed, soft color rising again in his cheeks.

"Get some pills: morphine, toradol, dilaudid, or hydromorphone for pain, and an antibiotic: ceftriaxone, azithromycin with clavulinic acid, or tazocin-piperacillin would be best. Tell me Will, do you have a plan?" Hannibal asked, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Not really. I've gotten into enough criminal minds to figure this out," Will answered, tipping the water for Hannibal again, mostly just to shush him.

Hannibal swallowed again, twice, admittedly thirsty, and gave a sigh of relief when he pulled his mouth from the bottle. "I am very interested to hear the tale when you return," he said, with deep admiration.

Will nodded, and set the glass down near where Hannibal could get it if he wanted it, and then slipped his water logged shoes back on, lacing them up. He stood again and found a clean blanket for Hannibal and draped it over him. "I'll be back, hopefully without many stories to tell."

Hannibal sighed, obviously eager to go with Will, but even he knew that was impossible right now. "I will see you soon."

Will smiled, the best he could with his cheek stitched up now. "Chiyoh is just out front if you need her." He grabbed a knife from the counter, and tucked it into his pocket.

"I will be fine," Hannibal assured Will as he watched his hands move, and the knife slide into his pocket. "When you return, I must insist you rest."

"I will," the empath said, and placed his hand on Hannibal's shoulder, squeezed it, and then took two long strides to exit the boat. "Watch him. He’lll try to do something stupid," he told Chiyoh as he walked off the dock, jacket hood up over his head.

Chiyoh nodded, with a grimace, and watched Will walk off, toward the hospital up the hill, her gun within reach.

Will did what he had to do. He snuck into the hospital, slipping a knife into a guard's throat and taking his badge, and quickly took what Hannibal asked for, filling his pockets, Only when Will was on the way out did they realize he was there, but he was long gone, jacket gone tossed away, hands filled with his prizes.

He arrived back at the boat two hours later. Will tossed the pills on the bed and then sorted through the bottles for Hannibal.

Chiyoh had abandoned her post on the deck of the small boat, and stood in the same room as Hannibal, where he slept. The small table across the room looked much neater, cleared off, salt and pepper arranged in a straight line to the side, Will's bloody clothes thrown into the trash.

"He tried to clean," Chiyoh sighed.

"Not surprised. Did you knock him out?" He asked, and pulled the antibiotics out and found Hannibal's water. He gave the older man a little shake. "Hannibal?"

"I said I would if I had to, then stayed here to make certain he is not pretending," she sighed.

"Thanks," Will murmured to her, honesty in his otherwise stern gaze.

Hannibal sighed, and opened his eyes, slowly, still very low on blood. "Will?"

"I'm here. Sit up," Will said, helping Hannibal gently, careful not to get his own shoulder reopened. "I've got the medication."

Hannibal pushed himself up, slowly, and looked at Will with a tired, pale-lipped smile, then noticed his shoulder, “Then I suggest you take some."

"Later," Will said, giving Hannibal the pills and water. "Take them."

Hannibal sighed at Will, as though he were fussing over nothing, and looked at the pills. "Painkillers," he said, and took them, with water. "I will have to restitch you quickly, before they set in. Any chance you came across some blood, Will?"

Hannibal looked at the fine spatter on Will's hands. "By the look of it, you did."

"I did. I found some bags of it though," Will said, putting down a few pockets of blood from his own pockets. "I'll take something once I know you're okay..."

Hannibal gave Will a fond, but exasperated look, and reached his hand out, touching Will's wrist, gently. "Very well, in that case, have Chiyoh take us away from here, begin the blood into my arm again, and if you lay down, I will re-suture your shoulder. Then, we can both rest. Acceptable?"

Will gave a curt nod, glanced over his shoulder at Chiyoh, and gave her the signal to navigate them away from the shore again. Then, he hooked Hannibal to the new bag of blood, warm from his pockets, and draped it from a hook by the bedside.

Will then went to wash the blood from his face, and took the button up shirt off, the undershirt stained from the reopened wound. Exertion had reopened it, he had pulled his arm too far when slicing the guard’s neck. He pulled the damp thing over his and tossed it with the rest of his clothes in the corner.

Taking the steps back to Hannibal, will slowly sunk down on the bed next to him, and handed him sterile supplies.

Chiyoh stepped out, all too glad to, it seemed, and Hannibal watched Will move, his bloodshot eyes missing nothing about what he did. Hannibal noticed that Will was growing comfortable with the medical supplies already, and imagined, easily the sort of movement that might tear his wound open again.

He watched the smooth muscles of Will's back as he pulled the undershirt off, and smiled when he climbed into bed, settling just as the boat began to propel itself out into the sea again, away from the scene of Will's crimes.

"Whom did you channel at the hospital?" Hannibal asked, curiously and hopefully as he disinfected Will’s shoulder wound again, then stole a look at Will's face before he began to ease the torn stitches out, smoothly.

Will stared up at the ceiling as Hannibal worked, hands folded neatly over his stomach. It had been less than a day since they murdered Dolarhyde. There was no channeling anyone, just himself, just the monster he'd been turning into since he shot Hobbs.

"No one," he whispered, matter-of-fact. "All me."

Hannibal's eyes _shone_ with pride when Will said that. It was precisely the answer he had been hoping for, and stopped stitching for a moment to give Will the same adoring look he had given him in Mason's dining room. "Did whomever you cut down survive?" Hannibal asked, as though he was inquiring about one of Will's favorite hobbies as he resumed his stitching.

"No. I stabbed him in the throat." Will slid the knife from his pocket, and dropped it to the floor, for now. The knife made a satisfying thud when it hit the floor of the boat, and Hannibal smiled again, tying off a tiny knot in the bright blue sutures before he cut the ends, and began the next stitch.

"Your other kills have been out of a sense of righteous indignation, your acts the same as an Earth-bound arch-angel, cutting a wide swath through the wicked with your flaming sword. Tell me, Will, what did this one do to deserve your wrath?"

"Nothing. He was in my way." Everything felt dull, all Will’s self righteousness seemed to have found a back burner in his mind, saving a space for later on. "You were going to _die_. Not quickly, but slowly, and awfully. I would have to watch, and that isn't how I'd want you to suffer."

Hannibal smiled, again, the same slow, warm curl of his lips again, a little more color in his face now that his thirsty body was fed more of the stolen blood. "How _would_ you prefer I suffered?" he asked, quiet and playful at the same time, almost done stitching.

"By my hands," Will said, his gaze moving from the ceiling, slowly over to Hannibal's face.

Hannibal managed a soft, barely there laugh with some sparkle in his red-rimmed eyes, and stared back at Will as he snipped the ends of the last sutures, and sighed. "By no co-incidence, that is also how I would prefer I suffered. Now, take your pills, please."

Smoothly, Will sat up, taking one of the bottles of painkillers in hand, and twisted the top off. He popped one into his mouth, guzzling a few sips of water to swallow them down. "Not today though."

Hannibal was already feeling the effects of the pills Will had given him, not to mention the soothing relief of blood restored to his depleted system. His hardy physiognomy seemed designed to survive, even in the worst condition. "No, not today," Hannibal agreed, laying on his uninjured side, so that he could look at Will. "You are aware that is Hydromorphone you took? Very potent."

"That's what the bottle says," Will murmured, tossing it onto the bed beside them, and as promised, he brought his legs back up to the bed and laid down, on his back, avoiding wrecking  his aching shoulder again.

Hannibal just smiled at Will, the heavy drugs making his vision slightly blurry, so that Will appeared lit by candlelight where he lay. "Are you bleeding anywhere else? Best to tell me now."

"Not that I know of," Will said, very quietly, closing his eyes, the exhaustion from the past day settling into his bones, the peace he had been hoping for finally settling in.

Physically, anyway.

Hannibal managed to move a little, gingerly, enough to pull the blanket out from around himself, and laid half of it over Will where he laid, sharing with him as he watched Will breathe. "That will have to suffice, for now."

Everything was complicated now, and yet so clear at the same time. Will blinked his eyes open. He stared at Hannibal, caught between turning away and offering him comfort to come rest against him as they both slept off their exhaustion, to heal.

They'd come this far, and Will had embraced his madness-- his darkness-- the second he embraced Hannibal. He moved, lifting his arm and tugged Hannibal over to his good shoulder now, Hannibal on his unwounded side.

Hannibal, for a moment, had the same awestruck look of shock when Will pulled him closer that he had on the edge of the cliff, just _staring_ at him, then moved carefully, and laid his head against Will's shoulder, instead of a pillow, and closed his eyes with a smile. His long-fingered hand hesitated for a moment before he let it rest against Will's chest, over the blanket, and he took a deep breath, then sighed it out, quietly, afraid to _move_ , in case he upset their delicate balance.

Will stared at his hand, and then reached around Hannibal, slid his ring off, and tossed that to the floor too. His old life was gone. He rested his hand on Hannibal's side, and then on his neck, tracing the curves of his collarbone and closed his eyes, content, for now. Will's fingers  traced his collarbone and neck sent thrilling warmth through Hannibal, making him feel full of beating wings inside.

“Good night, Will," Hannibal whispered, with closed eyes, both of them battered and bloody as they shared the small bed.

Will felt himself drift off, peaceful for the first time in weeks, and no nightmares, no dreams of murdering Molly and Walter. He was falling into a nightmare of a day dream, and yet everything felt at peace, pieces finally where they belonged.

As utterly exhausted as he was, Hannibal lay awake for what seemed like hours, unable to resist paying close attention to the feeling of resting his head on Will's chest. He watched his own hand rise and fall when Will breathed, never tiring of the sight.

After over a thousand rises and falls, Hannibal joined Will in slumber.

 


	2. Chapter 2

They took occupancy in a house near the shore, in Cuba. A place large enough for the two of them and a few dogs, should they find any, and with their luck, Will would find some. The house was old-fashioned, and well-kept, an old vacation house for a wealthy family that was liquidated after a death.    
  
Hannibal unlocked, and opened the heavy front door, then strode in slowly. The last week had been spent, on his part, sleeping and healing as much as he could while he did his best to walk around as though he had not suffered a nearly fatal wound.   
  
“We are home,” he said, as he held the door for Will, looking at him from beneath the wide brim of a wide hat that matched his pale, ivory suit. 

They made quite the pair, Will in his white slacks and pants, matching hat. He held the door, and then closed it behind them. Chiyoh had left them here, said she had better things to do, but Will knew she’d be around, at least to be sure that Will was not going to betray Hannibal once again. There was no worry of that, at least on the empath’s side.

“For how long?” Will asked, locking the door, a habit.

“That remains to be seen,” Hannibal said, as he removed his hat, and laid it neatly on a polished wooden hat rack. “For as long as we can manage to evade Jack’s wrath. In Cuba that will hopefully be some time,” he sighed, and leaned one hand against a mahogany sideboard, resting.

Will set down their bag of things from the boat, though not much. He touched Hannibal’s side gently, and eased him over to the couch, which had plastic over it. “Let’s hope he’s smart enough to think we’re dead.”

“Many have found freedom in death, in one way, or another,” Hannibal said, and let Will guide him to the couch. 

They had been closer than usual, physically, since their fall. On the boat, and in the hotel that they stayed in while arranging for the purchase of the house from one of Hannibal’s many untraceable swiss accounts, they shared a single bed, and slept touching. It was a sweet, even innocent sort of intimacy that Hannibal thrived on as he recovered. It was romantic, and there had been moments of silent understanding, of staring into one another’s eyes while laying in bed, and Hannibal had never felt more awestruck, or content than he had in those moments.    
  
They had always had that sort of connection, but it was more profound these days. Will didn't mind. He looked around, hand on Hannibal’s shoulder. “No one is coming back here are they?”   
  
“I purchased the house, under one of many assumed names,” Hannibal assured Will, and pulled him down, into the couch. It was a challenge to get Will to rest as much as he needed to, Will was stubborn, almost to the point of recklessness. “Should anyone attempt to return, they’ll be trespassing, and we can do as we like with them.”

Will's eyes darkened, letting Hannibal tug him closer, his own wounds still healing. His facial one had swelled, leaving gashes in his gums, and jarred a molar loose, that he'd since tugged out. “I guess we can hope for either situation.”

Hannibal kept a closer eye on Will’s injuries than his own, charting their relative rates and stages of healing. Thankfully, Will was not prone to keloid scarring, and with care and proper nutrition, the line on Will’s cheek would be even less noticeable than the one under his hat, across his forehead. “Then an intruder would not really be unwelcome, only as unwise as a man who leaps into a tiger’s enclosure,” Hannibal mused, and held his hand out for Will’s hat. “Violent delights have violent ends.”

Taking the hat off, Will laid it in Hannibal’s hand, both of them tanned from the venture here, time deck side and out in the sun for the travels. “As we both know well…”

Hannibal took Will’s hat, admiring the way Will looked with color in his usually pale skin, and set it on the plastic-sheeted end table, gently. The sun had brought out tiny strands of almost golden brown in Will’s curls, and his heartier complexion made his blue eyes even more stunning than they had been before. “Intimately,” Hannibal sighed, still staring at Will with a barely there smile on his lips. 

Glancing around at their new home, Will took in the space and the furniture, sitting close to Hannibal so their thighs touched. For a long moment they were silent, able to enjoy the quiet calm in it, together. Will patted Hannibal’s knee and stood once more, set on getting all the plastic off the furniture. “Need anything?” There was a kitchen, but if it dishes or running water, he wasn’t sure yet.

  
The house was still in working order, and as per Hannibal’s request to the previous owners, everything had been left as it was. He pushed himself to his feet, and went to a window to push aside the heavy, antique gold drapes. Jungle foliage bordered the house on two sides, and a long yard extended to the ocean through the back door. Of course, Hannibal hadn’t told his avid fisherman as much. He enjoyed surprising him. “We will have to make a trip to the market, while we have all of the essentials for dining, I doubt very much that there is anything left in the pantry.”   
  
He looked over his shoulder at Will. “Would you care for a tour?”

“Only if you’re up to it,” Will replied, hands in his pockets as he walked a little around the room, and then back to Hannibal’s side, still worried over the wound he’d fixed himself, still not sure he’d done a great job.

Hannibal was coping. He was sure that the wound required internal revision, but given that he had not bled to death yet, it was best to leave well enough alone until they could manage to acquire the right resources without drawing attention to their presences. Even in Cuba, a low profile was going to be necessary, at least for a while. “Certainly,” Hannibal said, with a soft smile, and offered his arm, gallantly. 

Any excuse to be near Will was a good one, even a tour around their new house.

Only too aware that his botch job surgery was not the best, Will kept a much closer eye on Hannibal than was likely needed. He slipped his hand out of his pocket and gently took Hannibal’s offered arm. “Lead the way, Doctor.”

Hannibal’s dark eyes crinkled at the edges when Will said that, and gazed for a moment before he led Will from the spacious living room into a dining room filled with stained glass windows made of thousands of tiny pieces of colored glass arranged precisely in an ornate pattern. “As you’ll see throughout the house, ornate craftsmanship is part of the Cuban architecture tradition. The windows and much of the tilework in the floor provide surprising bursts of color to the rooms that are otherwise ivory and nearly black wood,” Hannibal said, and ran his hand over the dark wood table with an approving look at it through the clear plastic.    
  
“Part of why I chose this house is the craftsmanship, and the sizeable lot,” Hannibal said, with a little smile in his eyes as he led Will to a large kitchen. More of the dark brown, nearly black wood dominated in what would be Hannibal’s domain, as well as intricate tile work. “The kitchen, a work of art in itself. You can see why I found it difficult to resist.”   
  
The kitchen was equipped with a large stove, two refrigerators, and a separate stone oven that sunk into the ivory stonework of the wall.  “I’m not certain we have water yet,” Hannibal murmured, and turned one of the silver faucets. Thankfully, water began to rush into the wide sink. “Splendid.”

“There is an old servant’s staircase that leads to the second floor, here, and a washroom to the left,” Hannibal said, and led Will back through the living room that would be lovely when they uncovered the richly colored furniture and opened the windows. 

“All of the windows are equipped with heavy wooden storm shutters on the outside, something I’m certain a native of Louisiana will find a touch of home. The ocean is rather close,” Hannibal hinted, aware that Will would find all the tiny decor details Hannibal relished utterly dull, and would only care about having his own bit of seaside when he discovered it.   
  
“The main staircase,” Hannibal said, as they began to climb, slowly. He leaned into Will a little more than he had to as they ascended the sweeping stairs that looked carved out of an enormous piece of black, polished wood, almost as dark as the antlers of some inky, mythical beast. “Another example of splendid craftsmanship and attention to detail when one regards the interlocking lace pattern of the railing,” he managed, breathing a little more shallowly as they climbed to the second floor.   
  
He took a moment to lean into Will, and breathed deeply. All he could smell was the sea salt and sun baked into Will’s skin. It suited him, far more than the cloying aftershave he wore in Baltimore.   
  
Will held Hannibal by the waist as they climbed the stairs, no comments given on anything as he took it all in. It wasn’t really to his tastes, but at this point there was no complaining, and he didn’t intend to either. He smiled a little, thinking only of the new boat he wanted to acquire at some point. “It’s beautiful,” he murmured, but his eyes were mostly on Hannibal, more worried than he wanted to be, or should really allow himself.   
  
Hannibal blinked at Will, amused and well aware Will likely did not listen to a word he said about the stunning craftsmanship of their new estate. Given that the wood was cuban mahogany, they were living in a very rare work of art. “Were you thinking of dogs, or of purchasing a boat while I was going on about the railings?” Hannibal asked, with a little tilt of his head, their faces close.

“No…” Will said, very indignantly, scoffing at the very idea of the exact thing he had done. Keeping a straight face, he looked Hannibal in the eye. “You’ll go on for hours about the decor, and we’ll be living here a while…” he suggested, without being so rude, that they had days and days for Hannibal to prattle on about anything he’d like. No use getting it all in at once. 

Hannibal raised an eyebrow, and his dark eyes matched the rare, deep brown wood of the staircase behind him so perfectly, it was as though he had somehow planned it that way. “So I shall, but I am determined to acquaint you with your new home. I will save the best for last, Will,” he hinted, and took Will’s arm this time, now that he’d recovered his breath.   
  
“I promise to keep it brief,” he offered, and led Will to the right, down a hallway panelled with jewel-toned tiles in patterns as fine and detailed as lace, or capillaries in fingertips. “Another washroom to the right, for guests, just opposite the guest bedroom,” Hannibal said as he opened doors to show Will the two very well-appointed rooms that were stunning, even without the windows being open to admit natural light.    
  
“A study, which I plan to fill with books, and possibly a clavier,” Hannibal said, and showed Will a wood-panelled study with a large desk and one end, a long sofa, and fireplace. It was luxurious and very old-looking, precisely what Hannibal loved.   
  
Hannibal stole a quick look at Will, and led him to the end of the hallway, then opened a wide door. Beyond it was a bedroom with enormous windows, and a door that led out to a large balcony, and a luxurious bed with draperies and white linens on it just opposite the windows.   
  
“The master bedroom,” Hannibal said, stopping himself just barely from saying ‘our bedroom’. He turned on the overhead light, and let Will look around at the grandeur of the room as he walked to the balcony door, and opened it. All of the glass in the bedroom was still covered by storm shutters, so the first view Will had of the ocean at their doorstep was from the balcony. They had timed it perfectly.   
  
The sun was just beginning to set, which painted the sky in bold streaks of pink and orange, and the colors reflected off of the endless blue water that went on forever, and lapped at the foot of a small, but private beach where a long wooden dock began and stretched into the water, perfect for a fisherman. “Oh yes, and … our own bit of ocean. This particular stretch of water is renowned for its diverse populations of fish,” Hannibal said, and looked at Will’s face. “Which, of course, is the  _ other _ reason why I purchased this house.”

Following Hannibal to the balcony, Will looked out at the stretch of water, hands on the railing there as he listened to Hannibal speak. He turned his head back to look at him. “You bought  _ this _ property with me in mind?” he asked, brows knit together curiously. He knew Hannibal loved him, he knew he cared in his own way, but never expected  _ this _ .

Hannibal met Will’s eyes, distracted by them even in the presence of the heavenly sky, just as he had been unable to look away from them in the Uffizi. He was struck speechless for a moment. “In our long and strange friendship, Will, I have always associated you with the ocean. You find comfort in it’s meandering outlets, you have crossed it to find me, and like the ocean itself, you hold more power beneath your surface than most suspect if they do not know you well … as well as I do.”    
  
Hannibal swallowed, and looked at the ocean again, his heart beating a little faster.   
  
“I could not imagine purchasing a house in which you did not feel at home. Here, you have your elemental self living next to you, waiting at your doorstep every morning,” he said, gesturing to the vast expanse of water without which the rest of the world could not possibly go on.

A month ago Will did not expect to be in this spot, with warm wind whipping at his hair, or a beach to call his own, let alone with Hannibal. A month ago he was running around in the snow, bundled up with icy wind biting at his skin. Admittedly, he was much happier in this instance, in the warmth, with Hannibal.

“Thank you,” Will said, quietly, gazing into Hannibal’s eyes for a moment more before turning his head back to look at the view from the bedroom--  _ their _ bedroom.

Hannibal smiled softly, and was certain his heart stopped for a moment when Will stared into his eyes like that. Just when he was nearly sure Will was going to lean in, and kiss him, Will looked away. It left Hannibal’s hands trembling at his sides, just a moment, and what could have been. “Of course. I’ll leave you to explore your dock while I make our house look a little more like a home.”

Will pushed away from the balcony, shaking his head, and placed a hand on Hannibal’s waist. “I’ll help you. It’ll be there later.” Will could be selfish if he wanted to be, Hannibal was allowing it, but the empath was also very aware of Hannibal’s delicate condition, and would not allow him to over do it.

Hannibal’s expression softened at the touch, and he looked at Will again with a grateful smile. He managed to stand straight, and as regally as ever, but his eyes were tired from being on the run. Here, at least, they could settle together, for a time. “Thank you, Will. I sleep more soundly in a well-made bed, and even more soundly in an orderly house,” Hannibal confessed, with a touch of his hand to Will’s back as they walked inside.

“We’ll start with the bed then,” Will mentioned, guiding Hannibal back inside, and only let go to stepped to one side of the bed, and start to remove the plastic covering it, folding it up.

An hour later, every piece of plastic was removed from the furniture of the grand house, and Hannibal opened the drapes. Most of the windows were still covered with storm shutters that closed from the outside, of course. He had to rest before attempting to open them, and sat down, heavily, on a chaise lounge in the living room, able to feel his heart beating more quickly than usual. He took his own pulse at the radial artery, in his wrist, and wiped a little sweat from his forehead, then unbuttoned his linen suit jacket, and removed it, setting it neatly over the end of the lounge.

Will quietly got a glass of water for Hannibal, touching his shoulder with his free hand. “Here,” he said quietly.

“Thank you, Will,” Hannibal murmured, as he took the water, and drank. He had to remind himself not to drink it down in one gulp. Thirst was not a good sign, even in this heat. His surgeon’s mind began to calculate and process the symptoms he was feeling, and knew that he had to rest without alarming Will. 

“The storm shutters can wait, I think. Everything looks a little better now,” he said, looking over the living room with a sigh. It looked livable, now, especially with the jewel-toned velvet of the furniture revealed, and elegant lines of table lamps and the central fire place, which Hannibal wondered if they would ever need to light.    
  
“I’ll get them,” Will offered, fingers skimming Hannibal’s shoulder as he walked to the doors and stepped out, prying the shutters open to let in more light, though the sun had set enough now that it hardly mattered, at least Hannibal wouldn’t try to open them himself later.   
  
Hannibal watched as rose gold light filtered into the room around Will’s shape every time he opened a pair of shutters, and smiled to himself as he considered the strange visual metaphor for how Will had affected his life, his heart. They had changed one another, after all. 

Once finished, Will got back into the house, sweatier now, and went to wash his hands before returning to Hannibal’s side, concerned to see he had not moved, and was sweating as much as Will was without the same exertion. He dropped down next to him on the chaise, but said nothing.

“Much better,” Hannibal said with a little sigh, and moved so that their shoulders were touching where they sat. It was comfortable like this, far more so than on the lurching boat, or the hotel in Varadero. This felt familiar, as though they had remade Hannibal’s house in Baltimore, and had returned to it. Hannibal’s eyes closed without him realizing it, and the sound of the ocean lulled him to sleep against Will’s shoulder, head laying against Will in a gesture of intimacy and complete trust as he drifted off, still sweating.

Will leaned back, and slipped his arm around Hannibal’s shoulders, letting him rest there as he watched him, able to do so now without Hannibal being so aware of it. He’d need to go out and find medication, probably some better medical supplies as well, as it seemed Hannibal was not getting better, if anything, he might be getting worse. Will laid like that for hours with Hannibal, just watching him breathe as the sunset, the house growing dark.

Hannibal woke, laying on the couch where he had fallen asleep. His vest was undone, shirt undone most of the way by his own hands as his body fought against it’s own rising heat. His arms were now around Will, and Hannibal’s face was buried in Will’s neck.

At some point Will had fallen asleep as well, arm around the doctor. He blinked, and opened blue eyes when he felt Hannibal move.

“You're soaked,” Will murmured, getting to his feet to turn on the lamp by the chair. He knelt at Hannibal's feet, opening his shirt to get a better look at the wound.

“I think perhaps the wound is infected with an organism outside the range of our antibiotic,” Hannibal sighed, and reached over with a heated hand to push Will’s curls out of his eyes.

Sure enough, the clumsily stitched wound was now an angry red color, with streaks of.red spreading away from it. “I’ll need to investigate,” Hannibal said, calmly, and began to consider what room in the house might make the best makeshift OR as his head spun.

“I had wanted to preserve the evidence of your stitching in my skin, Will, but I don’t think that is wise at this point. If I provide you with a list of supplies, would you be able to acquire them from town?” Hannibal asked. Even while parts of his memory palace began to slip into darkness, he formulated a plan.

“Yes, of course,” Will said, standing to help Hannibal up, hand on his side where blood pooled over his fingers.

Hannibal leaned against Will, his arm around his slim waist as they walked, slowly. “Thankfully, in a cash poor society such as this, even the cleaning staff of hospitals frequently supply medications and what supplies they can under the table for cash. I’ll make a list, hopefully we can find lidocaine, if not, we may have to use a diluted cocaine mixture as a local anesthetic.”

Will blinked at that last bit, and then carefully sat Hannibal at the table and went to get a pen and paper from the counter. “How likely is it that I won’t find lidocaine?”

“There is a small hospital in town, I doubt they have a functional operating room. The chances are slim, at best,” Hannibal admitted, and reached a hand up for the paper and pen.

He wrote a long list of items, some from the pharmacy, some from a fishing store, and handed it back to Will. “You’ll find hemostat clamps in the fishing store, I’m sure you’re familiar with them. We will require approximately ten, to be safe, all metal, nothing with plastic parts. Should you have to resort to purchasing cocaine, it needs to be of very high quality.”

“Where would I acquire the cocaine?” Will asked, sure he could guess, but he wanted to be sure. “I’ll need money.”

Hannibal wrote a series of numbers, and a password on the bottom of the page, then handed the list to Will. “I had the foresight of making Chiyoh the guardian of my collection of passports, and banking information for those identities. Your passport is in your bag. If you hurry, the bank should still be open.”

It was dark out but not late. Will took the paper and then went to find his bag up stairs, going through it to find his passport. When he returned, he gave Hannibal the last of the antibiotics. “Take them, I know it won’t help much now, but I could be a bit.”

“The issue is not the dose, Will, but the spectrum of the antibiotics,” Hannibal said, but touched Will’s hand for the thought. “You may have luck at the pharmacy with the antibiotic I wrote down that works on what I suspect is growing in my wound, you will have to offer cash over the counter. The black market medical industry is alive and well in Cuba,” Hannibal said, and only then let his hand drop from Will’s.   
  
On the list, amongst other things were two large containers of bleach, heavy cotton string, long metal sewing needles, hemostats, lidocaine (or alternative)... it was an exhaustive list, but improvised surgery required whatever supplies they could find. 

“Okay. You’re going to be fine without me?” Will asked, folding the paper into his pocket, he’d have to walk, they had taken a cab, and calling one would take time he didn’t have. “Nearest town you said would have everything?” He squeezed Hannibal’s hand, and got his hat and his knife, just in case.

“The nearest town is the best we can manage,” Hannibal sighed, and let go of Will’s hand, reluctantly. “The sooner you are back, the better. I’ll do what I can to prepare for the surgery here.”

Will nodded, silently, and left. The evening was not cold, still warm from the sun as he walked quickly along the dirt road into the main streets. He managed to hail a cab that saw him, and they were kind enough to wait out in front of the bank so Will could get the money. He paid the driver, who then offered to take him to the places he needed to go. Fishing store, pharmacy, and a few other spots when he asked about certain medications the pharmacy didn’t have. Everything was found on the list, his pile of things in the back of the cab growing, except for the Lidocaine.

The cab driver shrugged at Will and parked down the street from a shady looking alley and said he would wait there for Will, who got out and paid the driver more money to sit and wait and not drive off with his things.

Being American, Will knew he’d be taken advantage of when it came to buying anything illegal, especially drugs. Against his better judgement, he paid the asked amount, and committed the faces of the men to memory, he’d deal with their rudeness later on. Pocketing the cocaine, Will got back into cab. The driver took him home and Will paid him even more to keep his mouth shut about the night, and the man gave him his card, in case he needed a ride again.

Hauling everything into the house, once more, Will looked around for Hannibal.

Hannibal was upstairs, in the bathroom, doing his best to remove everything that was not essential to what he was about to do from the room. It would be easiest to clean in here, and the room was easier to close off from the rest of the house for sterility’s sake. He hung clean bedsheets around the tub, shower curtain taken down.

Will followed the light in an otherwise dark house and knocked on the bathroom door before opening it, setting down the bags of things. “No lidocaine.” He pulled the packet of cocaine out from his pocket. “Pricey.”

Hannibal’s shirt was off, and he wore only a white towel around his hips in preparation for the surgery. He let go of the sheet after clipping it to the ornate brass hoop that used to hold the shower curtain, and took the cocaine, nodding. “If it were not, I would suspect it’s contents. Would you be good enough to give me a hand scrubbing the bathroom down with diluted bleach? I would have done so already, but there was none in the house.”

“I’ll do it,” Will offered, and set about making a concoction of water and bleach in a bucket, stripped down to his boxers as not to get them bleached, and then put on some sterile gloves and started to scrub everything down.

“Thank you, Will,” Hannibal said, as he went through the bags of supplies, and set things in order on the sink. “I hope you didn’t have any trouble with obtaining anything…” Even in his state, sweating and dizzy with fever, Hannibal had to appreciate the muscle of Will’s exposed legs, the beautiful slope of his shoulders. He was living art.

“No, pretty sure I was taken on the coke though, nothing that can’t be handled later,” Will offered, with a glance over his shoulder, and then set back to scrubbing everything down, making sure he did not miss a spot.

It was impossible not to appreciate Will’s behind as he scrubbed the tub, and the floor. Hannibal stared for a long moment, transfixed, then arranged everything that required sterilization in one of the bags. “Have you ever witnessed surgery before?”

“Only the botch job I did on you earlier,” Will admitted, getting to his feet again when he was finally finished, and tossed the scrub brush into the bucket.

“This time, I will be awake enough to do the cutting and stitching. I think I will have to remove part of the muscle, and fascia, at least. Your job, Will, is going to be to hand me what I need, and to hold a mirror so that I am able to see what needs to be done,” Hannibal explained, then spread two clean cotton sheets in the bathtub after laying down towels in the bottom of it.   
  
Will grabbed a mirror. “I can do that.”   
  
Hannibal smiled a little at Will’s eagerness to assist. “But, first, would you please take the instruments in this bag downstairs and add them to the boiling water on the stove. Let them boil for twelve minutes, then cover the pot, and bring everything upstairs. We should be ready to begin.”

Will wanted to get this done, he didn’t want Hannibal suffering more than was needed. He set the mirror down and nodded, pushing his clothes out of the room with his foot, he took everything in the bag down stairs. He plopped it all into the pot and timed it. Once done, he covered it, turned the stove off, and carefully brought the pot up to the bathroom, just as asked.

Hannibal was in the tub, hands gloved, his eyes closed as he kept his well-cleaned hands up in the air so that he did not touch anything before the procedure. “Thank you, Will,” he said, without opening his eyes. “Now, keeping the lid closed, pour the water into the sink, carefully, don a pair of gloves, and hand me one of the syringes I’ve prepared on the counter there.”    
  
Two loaded, large syringes with very large needles waited on the counter, capped and ready for use. Thankfully, Will had been able to acquire those from the local hospital for an under the table fee.   
  
Again, Will did as told, hands gloved, he kneeled and handed Hannibal one of the syringes. “Do you need me to help with this?”   
  
“Thank you, Will, but no, I’m going to administer a bilateral transversus abdominus plane nerve block, it requires precise placement. Usually, one would do this with the aid of an ultrasound machine, but I doubt very much you found any for sale in town,” Hannibal said with a soft, calm smile, and took the needle in hand, de-capping it expertly. He nodded for Will to hold up the mirror, and pressed the long lumen of the needle into his side, then injected the diluted cocaine when he felt the needle slide into the right place, between the lowest layer of muscle, and the fascia. Numbness spread through half of his body, from his chest down, and he felt a slight rush from the drug, even if it was not injected into his bloodstream. “And the other syringe, please,” Hannibal requested, as he set the first syringe to the side, where the soap usually went on the edge of the tub.

Will stood and grabbed the other, and handed that one, too, to Hannibal. He watched him closely, just in case, worried more now than he had been on the boat, now that they were both safe, it would be here that Will lost… everything. He held the mirror up, again, sure Hannibal would need it.

“Thank you, Will,” Hannibal murmured, and reached over to inject the second syringe in the same spot on the other side of his body, then withdrew it, and made a few small injections around the wound itself, which was quite numb, now. “Cocaine was the first local anesthetic used in modern dentistry, it has the added benefit of being a vasoconstrictor, it will stop me from bleeding to death during the procedure,” he said in a conversational tone, and set the second syringe with the first. 

  
“Now, I will require a scalpel, and one of the suture kits you obtained from the hospital,” Hannibal said. The drug swam into his blood stream through his dermis, and he felt more energized, relaxed and focused at once, which was a perfect mindset for embarking on self-surgery.

Another nod, and Will retrieved the kit, which was sterilized, thankfully, already. He then pulled the scalpel from hot, sterile pot and walked back over to Hannibal.

Hannibal took the kit, and set it next to his leg, then the scalpel. “Would you mind swabbing the wound with one of the iodine sponges, Will? Concentric circles are best, from the middle of the wound outward. I assure you, I will not feel a thing.”   
  
Will did, hands somehow not shaking with how much worry was coursing through him right now. He shouldn’t be, after all they had been through, seeing Hannibal fragile like this should have been amusing. And yet, it wasn’t.

Hannibal did not feel fragile, he felt as though he was perfectly in control, and back in the operating room … as it were. “A shame we don’t have any music playing,” he mused, and used the scalpel to slice the stitches Will made open. The wound gaped, pus-filled and obviously badly infected.    
  
“Forceps, please,” Hannibal said, calmly, and held his scalpel in one hand, the other extended for the large tweezer-like instrument from Will, which the other man gave to Hannibal once he retrieved them from the pot as well.   


Hannibal thanked Will, and used the forceps first to spread the wound open. “It does not appear to have gone deeper than the lowest level of muscle, thankfully. We have caught the infection before it has done serious damage. Mirror, please, Nurse Will,” Hannibal said with a smile, and began to cut away at the slimy, greying muscle tissue and reddened skin with the scalpel.

Will scowled at that but held the mirror up. Anything said to Hannibal in this condition was not likely to be taken seriously anyway. “Just Will is fine…”

“You are never just Will,” Hannibal said, almost cheerfully, and nodded to an empty bowl that was waiting on the edge of the counter, then placed the badly infected tissue into it when Will put it on the edge of the tub. “You have always been as significant as an earthquake capable of bringing me down to my foundations,” he said, and looked at the wound in the mirror, then made another delicate cut.

Will opened his mouth to say something in turn, but found that he’d been rendered speechless, for once. He held the mirror a little higher for Hannibal to see, and swallowed thickly as he watched. “So I’ve been told…”

Hannibal’s eyes moved up to Will, away from the surgical site, and he smiled a little, his hands covered in his own blood as he gazed at Will, and did not look away. “I do not fear death, Will. What is it you surmise I must fear, then, as I cut into myself and excise tissue into a soup bowl? I feel no pain now, but I know full well that this will hurt, very much, once my nerve block wears off. I am prepared to suffer it, and for what?” Hannibal asked, as he returned his attention to the wound, cutting the last bit of dangerously infected muscle out before he examined a vein, and began to stitch what he suspected was a tiny leak in it closed with the sterile sutures.

“For... “ Will let the word linger and looked at Hannibal, intensely, “me.” Hannibal suffered emotionally for Will, and now physically. He’d had himself locked up so Will would know where to find him.

Hannibal looked up, past the mirror, at Will, and held his gaze for a moment. “Yes, for you. Strange, isn’t it, the moments of truth we share when one of us is sliced open?” he murmured, with a wistful smile. “Should I make mine wider, Will? Like your own?”

“Humbling that you are the one sliced open for once,” Will said, though no smile graced his lips, just worry etched into his brow. “Just… stitch yourself up... _ please _ .”

Hannibal’s eyes went a little moist with breathless happiness. Will’s tone was the tone of a man watching someone he  _ adored _ doing something very, very dangerous. It was worth every slice, and every moment of what Hannibal knew would be agony later to hear the evidence of Will’s deep affection again, as he did on the cliffside, before their plunge.   
  
“As you wish,” he nodded, breathing again before he held his hand out for another package of sterile stitches, and began to put neat, tiny knots through his muscle tissue as Will watched over him like a worried angel.

Will let go of breath he had not realized he held, and gave Hannibal everything he needed, and kept a watchful eye on him. He affections ran deeper than he wanted to realize, having always hidden it down so he would not be the monster Hannibal was, only now realize he was just the same. “Thank you.”

Hannibal kept stitching, mending the muscle precisely, and finished with a neat row of stitches to hold his skin closed. It was tight after the excision, but it would do. Finally, Hannibal plastered a sterile dressing over the wound, and removed his gloves, then let his head fall back with a sigh. “I … may require some assistance to climb out of the tub,” Hannibal admitted, a little sheepishly. He was still numb from the nerve block, so walking, let alone climbing out of a deep tub would prove difficult.

Will pulled off his own gloves and bent low to curl his arm around Hannibal gently, carefully lifting him out the best he could not to reopen his own wound in his shoulder. “Alright, up we go.”

Hannibal used his own arms around Will’s waist to steady himself, and then very, very carefully watched his feet as he stepped out of the tub, unable to feel anything at all. “Thank you,” Hannibal murmured, and rested his face against Will’s for an unguarded moment, then looked at Will, up close. “Putting me to bed might be wisest.”

Nodding, Will carried most of Hannibal’s weight and walked him to the bedroom, eventually getting him down on the clean linen bed, and covered him in. “I’ll get the new antibiotics, and a glass of water for you, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Hannibal’s hand moved to Will’s, catching it, and holding it in his own. “I took a dose just before the surgery, I won’t need another for approximately six hours,” Hannibal assured Will, and did not let go of his hand. “Thank you, Will. I would have had a very difficult time without you.”

“It's my fault you're in this mess,” Will whispered, stilling, not letting go of prying his fingers from the touch he craved for so long, but denied himself.

“It is not your fault that Francis shot me,” Hannibal said with a soft smile, and tugged Will down to the bed so that he was sitting on the edge while they held hands. “Your actions on the boat likely saved my life, as a temporary measure by an untrained medic, it was wildly successful.”

“I had help,” Will insisted, shaking his head. “I… knew The Dragon would try something, and I was okay with that. I thought we’d both go down…”

“A quick death, in one another’s arms,” Hannibal said, almost fondly. “That is the most romantic death I can imagine. I cannot say I was angry for a moment, even as we fell.”

“I tried,” Will said with a disbelieving chuckle. He crawled carefully over Hannibal and curled up beside him, dark had fallen over the house deep into the night now, and Will was exhausted from everything.

Hannibal watched Will crawl over and settle next to him, and turned his head to watch him as he laid down. “It would have been a divine ending, Will. I cannot blame you. However, it begs the question: why not allow me to die on the boat?” Hannibal asked.

“Faced with our deaths, I saw my own life become meaningless without you,” Will admitted, in the quiet dark of the room, as if speaking it now no one else would hear him.

Hannibal could hear his own heart. It felt as though it was beating as hard and fast as a trapped bird’s wings, straining against the cage of his ribs. He reached over and touched Will’s arm with one hand, staring at him. “We must go together, or not at all?”

“Can’t live with you, can’t live without you,” Will said, repeating the words Bedelia had said to him not long ago, never more aware of how right she was until now.

Hannibal sighed, and moved his hand to the side of Will’s tanned, stubble-covered jaw. “You have lived without me, Will. You found it … dull, I believe,” Hannibal murmured, the diluted but powerful drugs still coursing through his system. “What is life without a dragon, or two?” he quipped, with a faint sparkle in his eyes.

“A quaint one,” Will whispered, watching Hannibal closely, still quite worried with everything they’d endured so far.

“Quaint is what one might look for in a bed and breakfast,” Hannibal said, as his energy began to fade after the rush of performing surgery on himself. “Not the rest of one’s life, at least not your life,” he murmured, knowingly, and caressed Will’s cheek. “Our lives.”

Will lied very still where he was next to Hannibal, one hand reaching over to rest on his chest, his turn to count the beats and breaths. “It worked for the time.”

“What changed?” Hannibal asked, and took a deep breath when Will’s hand lay over his bare chest. Hannibal had discarded the clean towel he’d worn during surgery, and was comfortably and shamelessly bare beneath the blankets.

“I did. Or, maybe I changed for her, to make it work. It wasn’t who I am. You’ve known that since before I knew myself,” Will explained, quietly, feeling Hannibal’s heartbeat under his palm.

“You have a habit of grinding pieces of yourself off to remove the sharp edges so that you blend in a little better, but I have always adored the razor edges of you, Will, and the way that you draw blood with a glance, or a touch,” Hannibal whispered, his dark eyes starting to lull closed between words.

“I’m nothing but jagged bones and sharp teeth for you,” Will answered, and scooted closer, resting his head on Hannibal’s shoulder, to hear him breathe.

Hannibal smiled softly, and turned his head to breathe against the delicate, oval-shaped shell of Will’s ear as they curled together, even more intimately than before. “A good chef treasures nothing more than a perfect blade,” Hannibal sighed, and stroked his hand over Will’s bare back, cherishing each small bump of vertebrae under his skin. They were as perfect as a string of pearls.

Goosebumps spread over Will’s skin at Hannibal’s light as feather touches and whispers, making in curl into him closer, rubbing his palm over the thicket of hair on his chest, coarse and dense. His only response was a little hum, drifting off to sleep himself.

Hannibal slipped under the surface of sleep as he held Will with one arm, despite the feeling of Will’s hand in his chest hair. It was arousing, or would be if his body were not so achingly tired, and in need of rest.


	3. Chapter 3

When Hannibal opened his eyes, sunlight poured in through the sheer, white drapes over the arched windows. Pain radiated through his right side, but he had expected that. He lifted the covers and peeled back the dressing to look at his surgical site. It was already much better.    
  
Very, very slowly, he turned to put his feet on the floor, and stood to wrap the flat sheet around his hips before he walked out into the hall, in search of Will, who was down in the kitchen trying to figure out breakfast. They hadn’t much food and in his shopping last night, he hadn’t thought about that bit. He was still in his boxers, the morning air was cloying even at the early hours.

Hannibal descended the staircase very, very slowly, leaning heavily against the thick, dark bannister as his abdominal muscles struggled to cope with his movements. Finally, he caught sight of Will in the kitchen, with the sun in his hair from the large windows behind him. It struck Hannibal once again how unaware Will was of the power of his own formidable beauty.   
  
“Good morning,” Hannibal said, in a rougher, deeper voice than usual, and leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen door. For once, Hannibal’s hair was unkempt, he was anything but polished, barely dressed.

Will found a can of coffee and the a maker and had put some on, and that was about all he found. He turned when he heard Hannibal, and smiled lopsidedly at him, glad to see him up and awake. “Mornin’. Need anything?”

Will’s grin, this early in the morning, and this unguarded was sufficiently beautiful to make Hannibal feel as though it had knocked the breath out of him. “Antibiotics, certainly, pain medication if we have any on hand,” he rumbled. His voice was more heavily accented in the morning, and lower, less polished.    
  
He walked very slowly into the kitchen, and leaned against the counter. “How long have you been awake?”

“About an hour,” Will said, and pulled down a glass and filled it with water, and then shook out pills for the antibiotics, and opened another bottle he’d gotten last night, for pain. He set them down on the table and then went to help Hannibal take a seat.

“Thank you, Will,” Hannibal murmured, and wrapped his arm around Will for a moment before he sat down, slowly, and looked up into Will’s eyes. They were a beautiful melange of blue and green today, like the ocean Hannibal could hear just outside of their kitchen door. “Did you sleep well?”   
  
Hannibal took the antibiotic first, with a look at a the clock on the wall, then the painkiller, and watched Will make coffee. Will was using the traditional coffee pot left behind with the kitchen, and from the look of it, doing rather well.

“As well as expected,” Will answered, setting the maker on the stove, lit now that he’d gotten everything working and orderly. “I’ll have to run into town again. I didn’t buy food last night.”

“Clothing may also be a wise investment,” Hannibal said with a little smile as he watched Will prepare the only breakfast they had. Coffee. He didn’t mind at all, Hannibal was wrapped in the dreamy cocoon of domesticity with Will, heightened by the sound of the ocean and palm fronds whispering in the wind. “Unless, of course, you’d like me to wear a sheet for the rest of my recovery.”

Admittedly, Will  had never seen Hannibal so bare as he had in the last week, and more so now in the last day. He’d been the type that loved and lusted once he knew someone, and given how intimately he knew Hannibal, the thought of walking around in just a sheet spiked an urge in him he tried to quell for years. “Uh… write down your size for me… I’ll- I’ll find something.”

Hannibal noticed a flush creep up the front of Will’s throat as he spoke, and smiled to himself as the sun shone on his shoulders through the open windows. “I am trusting you to dress me well, Will,” Hannibal said with a soft sigh, staring openly at the way Will’s tanned skin freckled over his shoulders. Every soft, light brown dot was like a star in a galaxy, and Hannibal’s keen eyes picked out constellations quickly.    
  
“Shorts and button up linen it is,” Will teased, setting out two cups for coffee as it started to perk. “Sugar? Wait…” Will stretched up to look in the cabinets to see if they even had sugar.   
  
“I don’t think we have any, just yet,” Hannibal said, but enjoyed the sight of Will’s torso and legs stretched in such a fashion as the sun poured over him. The lines and subtle curves of Will’s body put Michaelangelo’s David to shame. Will was a masterpiece. 

“Damn,” Will muttered, and sighed, resigning to turning around to look at Hannibal instead, the coffee nearly finished. “Enjoying your view?” He used to pretend he didn’t notice the subtle glances Hannibal gave him-- it was easier then to avoid.

Hannibal arched one eyebrow at the question, and straightened his shoulders, managing to lean back against the chair elegantly as he blinked and stared at Will’s eyes. “I would be lying if I said I was not,” Hannibal admitted with a slight flush across his impossibly high cheekbones, then swallowed.   
  
“Surely it’s not the first time you’ve caught me appreciating you,” he said, and the flush spread to his tanned chest, under the hair.

“It’s not. I… didn’t feed it back then though,” Will admitted, taking the coffee off the stove, which he turned off. He poured them both a cup and brought them over, setting one down in front of Hannibal, and then took a seat, turning toward him.

“Didn’t you?” Hannibal asked as Will poured a short cup of coffee into each of their cups, and sat across from him. “I seem to recall that after you were exonerated of my crimes, you came to my office with a rather alluring demeanor.”

“Noticed that, did you?” Will asked around a small sip of his coffee, eyes crinkling slightly with the curl of his lips.

“As you knew full well that I would,” Hannibal sighed, and sipped his coffee with a close of his eyes at the taste. The sun caught his nearly translucent eyelashes, and lit them up, vividly, almost silver-white against his tanned cheek.

“I had to get you away from Alana somehow.” Will set his cup down after another sip, letting it cool just a bit, almost too hot. He canted his head at Hannibal, unable to deny himself the pleasure of looking on him the way he wished he had years ago.

“Ah. That was for Alana’s sake, was it?” Hannibal said, in an almost flirtatious tone as they rehashed their past over the lacquered table and unsweetened coffee: dark and bitter, but palatable all the same. 

“I never said  _ that _ ,” Will grinned, fingers flitting over the rim of his mug as he gazed at Hannibal. “I had motives, that turned quickly into feelings…”

Hannibal gazed back, with a dark, unblinking stare. “You began to become the man you pretended to be,” Hannibal said, crisply, and chewed the inside of his lower lip. “Can you recall the instant you realized that your fiction became factual?”

“It was a smooth and perfect ascension,” Will stated, looking back on it, though he was in denial up to the point he called to tell Hannibal that the FBI knew. It was then he was aware of every change and every feeling he had for Hannibal, despite his morals.

"Was it before or after I sunk the linoleum blade into your intestines?” Hannibal asked, gently, and turned his small cup of coffee in one hand.

“Before,” Will replied, quietly now, moving in a way to cover the scar left behind, though faded, still very much noticeable against his now tanned skin.

Hannibal looked down, into his coffee, and took a swallow. They’d never discussed that night, not like this. “Yet, you did not run away with me when I presented you with the opportunity…”

“Sense of duty.” Will’s face fell thinking about that night, one he had nightmares about for months and years. He took one last sip of his coffee and got up, setting it aside. “I should get dressed and head out for food. Can’t let you starve.”

Just like that, their moment was broken. “Is that your sense of duty speaking, again?” Hannibal asked, as he finished his coffee, and looked at Will as he set the cup on the table, softly.

“I need a distraction,” Will admitted, not wanting to falter back down into that headspace once again, not after the years it took to overcome that dark, aching feeling Hannibal had left him in.

“Understandable,” Hannibal sighed, and stood, very slowly, one hand braced against the table. As glorious as their moments of connection were, the inevitable disconnect felt harsh, like stepping into a frigid winter night after soaking in a warm tub. “In that case, I’ll be upstairs.”

“Let me help you.” Will came around, one arm on Hannibal’s waist, offering up his good shoulder for support. 

There was Will’s sense of duty again, showing it’s eager face. Hannibal said nothing, but paused at the base of the staircase, and looked at Will before he wrapped one arm around Will’s bare shoulders. “Thank you,” Hannibal said, politely, and softly, and leaned against Will’s side as they took the first step upward together. They took easy steps together, and Will felt himself leaning in more, holding Hannibal against his side as they ascended the stairs. He had to get dressed anyway, right? Right. He got them to their room, and helped Hannibal onto the bed before finding his clothes from yesterday and dressing quickly, hat and all.   
  
Hannibal watched as Will dressed, his mind archiving the sensual flex of Will’s back as he pulled pants on over his svelte legs, then the shirt over his chest. “It’s customary to haggle at the market,” Hannibal said after closing his eyes. The painkillers were settling in, and brought a welcome fluidity to his thoughts as he leaned his head against the pillow. 

“I’ll do my best. Any requests?” Will asked, putting his things back into his pockets and then refilled the water on the nightstand for Hannibal in case he needed it.

Hannibal opened his eyes when Will’s voice sounded, closer than before, and looked up at him. Will cut a dapper figure in the white hat and clothes, a far cry from the scruffy fisherman in Wolftrap, Virginia. “A nice red wine would help bring my hemoglobin back up to it’s usual level, as would some red meat,” Hannibal said, then smiled. “Take that as you like.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” Will said, and gently, out of habit or need, he wasn’t sure, he bent and kissed Hannibal’s brow, and then straightened. “Rest.”

Will’s lips left a soft, warm spot on Hannibal’s skin that tingled a little as endorphins raced through Hannibal’s bloodstream, madly. He looked up at Will, and reached out to touch his hand, lacing their fingers for a moment, speechless, and quite aware that he was likely beaming like a schoolboy at the sweet, but very innocent gesture of affection. “Don’t be long and I will not feel compelled to entertain myself,” Hannibal said, with a gleam in his eyes.

“Entertain yourself?” Will asked with a smile that returned now to his otherwise gloomy features from their topic before in the kitchen. He squeezed Hannibal’s hand gently.

“After three years time incarceration, my mind palace has become all too familiar,” Hannibal said with a little smile in his eyes. “I’d rather be exploring our home.”

“Rest and I’ll entertain you with a walk around the house again when I get back,” Will promised, letting go of Hannibal’s hand this time, and made his way out of the room, down the steps, and out the front door, locking it behind him.

When he returned, there were bags and bags of fresh produce and groceries, meats and wine, eggs, everything he could think to get that Hannibal might need or want. He set everything on the table and started to unload the bags.

Hannibal’s eyes opened when he heard the door open, and he listened to the faint sounds of Will moving around the kitchen. After a long moment, Hannibal appeared at the top of the staircase, leaning against the rail, as elegantly as possible, still wrapped in the sheet from earlier. The white cotton made his bronzed skin look richer than usual, and dipped just low enough in the front to show the dip of Hannibal’s hip bones.   
  
Will did not seem to mind.   
  
“I was nearly certain I would wake to the sound of a dog running through the house,” Hannibal said, from the staircase.

“Not yet,” Will said, and moved to the stairwell to look up at Hannibal, a few  bags in hand for him, he climbed the stairs to his side. “Clothes.”

Hannibal looked into the bags with interest, then smirked at Will. “A shame, I’ve become quite comfortable like this,” he said, one hand resting against Will’s where it held a bag.

“I’m sure the bed would like it’s covers back,” Will teased, and took the bags into the bedroom for Hannibal and set them on the bed. There were enough things for them both, hopefully Hannibal like some of it.

Hannibal followed, slowly, and looked into one of the bags, curiously, then pulled out a pale blue shirt, looking it over. “For which one of us is this intended?”

“If it fits you, you can have it,” Will offered with a smile. “I can take things back, too.”

Hannibal chuckled, and unbuttoned the shirt, then slipped it on his good side, but struggled to manage the other side of the shirt as his wound pulled a little under the recently changed dressing.  Will moved in and helped him get the shirt on and then buttoned it for him, taking his time in doing so, standing closer again.

“Thank you,” Hannibal said, quietly, staring at Will as Will buttoned his shirt for him, Will’s fingers brushing his chest as he did so. It was, somehow, just as intimate a gesture as undressing. 

Will let his fingers brush collarbone at the last button and then palmed down Hannibal’s chest to smooth out the fabric. “It looks good.”   
  
“Particularly with the sheet around my hips?” Hannibal asked, playfully, and looked at the sleeves. They were, perhaps, a fraction of an inch too short for his liking, but the fit was not terrible for something off the rack.   
  
“I bought pants, too, if you prefer,” Will answered, with a grin, enjoying this banter much more than the talk they had earlier, and wanted to forget about. Hannibal looked up from examining the cuffs of his shirt, “in that case, perhaps I should try a pair on,” he said, and looked through the bags until he found a pair that looked like they would go with his shirt. He unfolded them, and examined the trousers for a moment, then tried to bend to slide them on under the sheet, and stopped short. Even through the painkiller’s effects, that was unpleasant.

Without a word, Will took the pants and squatted down to help Hannibal into the pants. He guided one leg and then the other, before tugged the perfectly fitting pants up and over Hannibal's hips, just under the sheet. Will tried to remain as professional as possible. Hannibal’s lips parted at the feeling of Will’s hands against his skin. He swallowed, and met Will’s eyes when he rose up to his level, then smiled, and loosened the sheet, which fell between them before he fastened the pants, slowly, heart pounding. “Thank you, Will.”

Will resisted the urge to wrap himself around Hannibal completely, stranger in daylight than at night. Still, he stayed close, and fixed Hannibal's collar. “Sure.”

Hannibal leaned closer, and planted a soft kiss against Will’s forehead, then let their noses touch, brushing together before he sat on the bed, carefully, hand against his stomach. “What did you purchase for yourself?”

Swallowing as a charge set thickly in the air, Will moved to pull more things from the bags. Shorts, t-shirts, button ups, slacks, shoes, and linen pajamas for them both. “Odds and ends.”

“You would roast in your thick flannel shirts here,” Hannibal mused, able to remember each and every one of them.

“I didn’t buy any,” Will pointed out, and stripped from his dirty clothes that now needed a good washing from all the dirt.

Hannibal’s eyes followed every undone button of Will’s shirt before he forced himself to look away, out the window. Admiring Will and leering at him were two very different things, Hannibal might indulge the former, but considered himself above the latter. “What did you find in the way of food?”

“The staples. Bread, butter, eggs, fresh produce, meat,” Will said, having not bought much in terms of canned or boxed foods. “Rice, too.” He set all his dirty clothes into the hamper and gathered the sheet for washing as well, and then tugged on a pair of shorts and a polo, not at all to his liking, but it would do.

Hannibal allowed himself to steal a glance before Will pulled his shirt on, and pushed himself up, to stand. “Perhaps I can make something out of it.”

“Are you good for that?” Will asked, going to Hannibal’s side immediately, hands on his waist.

Hannibal felt a flush of heat over his chest and throat at the touch, and he allowed himself to lean against Will, for a moment. “If I am able to descend the stairs, I can manage something simple.”

For as often as Hannibal had left Will desolate and hurt, Will could not help the level of empathy and caring he still had for the other man. He licked his lips, and nodded. “Take my arm, I'll lead you down.”

Hannibal slipped his arm into Will’s, and leaned close to him as they began to walk, which was much easier without the white sheet around Hannibal’s ankles. “Thank you, Will, if ever you are gravely injured … again, I’ll happily do the same for you.” 

Will offered a hum at that, keeping his mouth shut to what he could have said there, of all the times Hannibal  _ could _ have done the same and had not. Any outsider would really wonder  _ why _ Will bothered at all with the doctor. Once at the bottom, he carefully stepped down first and offered his hand to Hannibal and then lead him to the kitchen once more. Bags of food had yet to be put away, as Will had gone to help Hannibal with the clothes first.

Hannibal thanked Will again with a touch of his hand against his back, then began to unpack what he could, and paused to look at Will, curiously. “Do you recall being carried to your house after we escaped Mason’s farm?”

"I try not to recall much of that night,” Will murmured, the thought of some of the things said to him by Mason Verger’s surgeon and the way he’d been touched was more than enough to make his skin crawl. Will had been awake and aware but unable to move.

Hannibal nodded, and kept unpacking, saying no more on the subject. He had recalled in prison, many times, the ache of Will’s weight in his arms. “A roast for tonight, and perhaps something simple for lunch,” Hannibal decided, then washed his hands in the sink, and began to look for a frying pan.

Will found the pan for him and set it on the stove, and then gently, testing, wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s shoulders from behind. He did recall being carried, but had passed out sometime between then and home. “How can I help?” he asked, whispering the question against Hannibal’s ear.

Goosebumps broke out up and down Hannibal’s arms when Will’s lips brushed his ear, and for just a moment, every train of thought he had derailed. After a moment of silence, Hannibal pulled a knife from the butcher’s block, and offered it to Will. “If you wouldn’t mind chopping the herbs I’ve set out, that would be lovely.”

Taking the knife over Hannibal’s shoulder, Will let go entirely, and stepped to pull a chopping block from the cupboard and set about mincing herbs just as the doctor asked, starting to wonder if they’d ever find their path again, their same level with each other as they had fighting the Dragon.

Hannibal and Will’s relationship had always been a strange dance, a battle for who led, for distance, for closeness. In it’s most intimate moments, it was as passionate as a tango, at it’s most estranged, formal and sharp, but there had always been and would always be a connection between them. Hannibal began to brown the large roast Will purchased in the pan, smoke billowing around him from the searing red meat. “Do you recall cooking with me, in Baltimore?”

“How could I forget?” Will asked, quietly, easily chopping herbs and leaving them in a small bowl to Hannibal’s right.

“Those evenings were my favourite memories of being in a kitchen,” Hannibal admitted, and seared the last side of the roast before he placed it in a roast pan, and began to add herbs.

“I think those were the only evenings I ever cooked for myself,” Will admitted, with a little smile over at Hannibal. He’d only ever cooked for his dogs, and ate whatever was convenient.

“You seemed to enjoy yourself,” Hannibal noted, as he pressed the herbs against the sides of the roast, and took Will’s knife to cut a lime.

Will let the knife go, all his trust in Hannibal to be around him with it, despite what kitchen and knives made him think about. Will had long since gotten over that, at least on the surface, and only lingered when he let himself dig a little too deep. “I did.”

“In that case, they are still my favorite memories of being in a kitchen,” Hannibal murmured, as he worked, spicing and seasoning the roast to perfection with a surgeon’s precision. He opened the oven, which had been heating since Hannibal began to work on the roast. 

“Let me,” Will insisted, coming to take the roast pan and slide it into the oven so that Hannibal didn’t need to bend over to do so instead.

“Thank you,” Hannibal said, and stepped back to let Will put the roast into the oven, and watched him closely, as he always did. Everything was delicate where Will was concerned, Will had likely never been with a man before, considering it now was a revision of his identity. As much as Hannibal wanted to turn him, press him against the refrigerator, and kiss him senseless, Will deserved time. Coercion was never what interested Hannibal.    
  
Will had chosen to stay with him, to help him, to worry over him. For now, that was enough.  “Would you mind putting on some music? There is a record player and a selection of albums in the living room,” Hannibal said, as he went through the last bag.

“Any preferences?” Will asked as he moved into the living room to dust off the record player. He flitted through the albums, most of them cuban, of course.

“Given what I’m sure we have left behind for us, no,” Hannibal called over to Will, as he worked.

Will picked out faded looking album and put the record on, shrugging as he let it start and then went back into the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind Cuban Jazz.”

“When in Rome,” Hannibal smiled, and presented Will with a plate featuring a sandwich that looked as though it had come out of a restaurant kitchen, slathered in melted cheese, stacked thinly sliced meat, and toasted, pressed bread surrounding it all. “When I said simple, I’m afraid I meant it. Cubano sandwiches for lunch,” Hannibal said as he prepared his own, sounding nearly embarrassed that he was making  _ sandwiches  _ at all, regardless of how beautiful.

“It looks delicious,” Will said, and and pecked Hannibal’s high cheekbone before taking the plate and sitting down at the table to eat it, so starved, he hardly realized he was hungry at all.

Hannibal froze when Will kissed his cheek so quickly and affectionately that it was as though Will had been kissing his cheek for years. Stunned, he nearly forgot to press his own sandwich in the antique iron griddle, and had to collect himself before he joined Will at the table.    
  
He should have made sandwiches in Baltimore, if that was Will’s reaction to them, Hannibal thought, ruefully. “Have you ever had these before?” Hannibal asked, and rose to find drinks, still used to playing host, not … whatever it was he and Will were.

“This? No,” Will said between bites, scarfing down the food that was essentially the first thing he’d had to eat since they arrived, and he knew the same could be said for Hannibal. “It’s amazing.”

Surgery had not left Hannibal with much of an appetite, but he knew he had to eat something. He took a bite, and felt his stomach growl, the taste of meat waking his hunger, finally. After he chewed and swallowed, Hannibal nodded his reluctant approval. “Passable.”

Will sat with spread thighs as sweat started to collect against them, even in shorts, and finished his sandwich in a few bites, and hummed his approval even if Hannibal didn’t. “It’s fine.”

Hannibal offered Will the other half of his sandwich, with a smile in his eyes. “A little rich for a post-operative diet,” he explained.

“I can make you some rice,” Will offered as he took the other half of sandwich, put it in his mouth and walked their plates to the sink to wash them.

Hannibal looked back at Will, his eyes unable to stay away from Will’s legs as he passed. They were distracting, to say the least, and Hannibal licked his lips. “That would be welcome, do you miss cooking for your pack?” Hannibal asked, joking with soft eyes. He knew Will missed them, he’d sacrificed their company to be here.

“A little,” Will admitted, tugging the sandwich from his mouth and then ate the rest of it before soaping up the dishes. He chewed and swallowed. “You think that’s why I don’t mind taking care of you?”

“I think that a part of you enjoys being in charge of caring for someone, or something,” Hannibal pointed out, softly, and watched Will do the dishes, memorizing the look of white soap suds against Will’s tanned forearm as the latin music lilted on in the background.

“It’s a bit in my nature, just as much as blood and carnage are,” Will said, matter of factly, and set one dish aside, clean now, and then the other. He rinsed them and his hand and set them to dry. A pot was taken out from a bottom cupboard and Will put some water on to boil, and then added the rice, expertly.

“Archangels come to mind when I consider you, Will. They were equally capable of mercy and violence, when they saw it necessary. I admit, I took the liberty of naming you after the strongest of all of them, did you look closely at your passport?” Hannibal asked, slyly.

“I did. Miguel?” Will smiled over his shoulder at Hannibal after setting the lid on the pot. 

“Michael was first described as a merciful healer, a protector of the weak, and then the only angel fierce enough to defeat Satan himself,” Hannibal said with a devilish smirk. “I do wonder whether Michael ever felt pulled in two directions.”

“Possible,” Will said, and sat back down near Hannibal. “Michael is also my middle name. It’s fitting you think that.” Though Will did not agree, he knew Hannibal saw in him things he could never see himself.

“I thought that was a lovely coincidence,” Hannibal said, and sipped his water with a slice of lime in it, wafer thin. “I could not resist naming myself Luciano,” he smiled, enjoying his little inside joke with their aliases. “Miguel and Luciano … a zero sum game.”

“Anything to keep you entertained until we were together again,” Will agreed with a smile and a sigh, leaning back in his chair.

“It did feel like a very long time,” Hannibal admitted, plainly, as he looked at Will. “I revisited our time together, so often that I feel I’ve lived those years backward and forward, like a traveller of time.”

“Did you know I’d return? That something someday would come up and Jack would knock on my door again? That even though you said not to come, I would anyway?” Will asked, curious more than he was accusing. After all, he’d tricked Hannibal into giving himself up, even if everything he had said that night was somewhat true, at the time.

Hannibal considered his answer for a moment, gazing down into his water as he did. “I knew that I could not make you choose to stay with me, nor would I ever want to  _ force _ you to choose to stay with me.”   
  
Hannibal looked up from his water, at Will’s eyes, connecting their gaze as he spoke. “ I _ also _ knew that once you had all of the distance and quiet you could bear, by the same token, no force on Earth could keep you from finding a way back to me: not Jack, not a new life, not even a letter of warning from myself,” Hannibal said with a smile in his dark eyes again. “Like the sea, you will do as you feel you must. There is nothing on Earth capable of holding you where you do not wish to be held, Will. In that sense, your first name is as fitting for your nature as your second.”

Will only knew himself well when he was with Hannibal, and that was because Hannibal had a way of seeing Will for the very things the fisherman wished not to see, though he was growing used to those things now. Will leaned, reaching a hand out for Hannibal’s, across the table, palm up. “Do you forgive me?”

Hannibal stared, directly into Will’s eyes, and felt salt prickle at his own at hearing the question on Will’s lips. Most saw only the damage Hannibal had done to Will, which was, admittedly, terrible. It seemed only Hannibal saw the damage Will had done to him … and now Will acknowledged it, as well.    
  
Hannibal slid his hand into Will’s, and closed it around Will’s hand. “I do.”

Will’s every intention that evening years ago was to hurt Hannibal as he had hurt Will, but without the same physical blows. He had Chiyoh to thank for that thought, though perhaps not the one she would have picked, it was the one Will needed to garner just an ounce of headspace of his own for a while.

His fingers gripped Hannibal’s, coarse and rough, calloused palm against Hannibal’s smooth, manicured one, soft from being locked. “We have only ever kept trying to settle the score, even if when we realize the sort of game it was we were playing, and knew it could never happen. I don’t want to play those games anymore, Hannibal.”

Hannibal went very still, and seemed to stare through Will as he spoke the words, and color rose in Hannibal’s skin, like a sunrise beneath his flesh from neck to cheeks. “Perhaps it is time we retired the game,” Hannibal managed, almost breathlessly, then licked his lips, and stared intently at Will. “What shall we do in the place of our favourite, treacherous game, Will?”

The game had been over the second Will pushed them right over the cliff. It was an end all, and survival had not been in his plans-- nothing had.

Will’s longest finger slipped down to Hannibal’s wrist, to his pulse, rubbing lightly as they gazed at each other intensely, oceanic blue on honeyed amber. “I could think of a few things we could  _ finally _ explore.”

Hannibal’s mind went utterly blank again, and his mouth went dry. The beats of his heart felt as though they took forever as he used Will’s hand to pull him closer, around the table, and into his lap where he sat, both arms circling around Will’s narrow waist. They were shaking. He was shaking. The entire island may have been shaking. Hannibal Lecter’s scalpel blade of a mind had been turned into scrap metal with the feeling of Will Graham looking at him like  _ that _ . “Will-” was all that he could manage. Dante, Shakespeare, Neruda, none of them had words for this moment. 

Will was carefully seated in Hannibal’s lap, across his thighs, arms around his shoulders. He pressed their foreheads together, forging the intimacy they had been trying to grasp for days and days now. “I’m here.”

Here was the physical location of Will’s body in Hannibal’s lap, and the emotional reality that Will had caught up to Hannibal, they were, at last, in the same place at the same time, no more games.    
  
Hannibal’s eyes closed, slowly, and he nuzzled Will’s face as he touched his cheek with one trembling hand. “I have been here for years,” he whispered, “waiting.”

“I know,” Will admitted, softly, breathing against Hannibal’s mouth as his head tilted just slightly, eyes never leaving each other’s. “But I’m here now. I’m not leaving.”

Hannibal gripped Will more tightly, one hand around the back of his neck, the other against his back, fingers in the light fabric of Will’s shirt as they breathed together, their chests rising and falling, perfectly in synch.   
  
Sweetly, and hesitantly, Hannibal shifted closer, and closed his eyes before he brushed their lips together. The mere sensation of it, the unnamable electricity that surged through his body was enough to knock the breath out of him. Will’s hand slid down from Hannibal’s neck to his chest, feeling his racing heart that match the cadence of his own, slowly parting his lips and fitting them together perfectly.

Hannibal’s arms clutched Will tightly, afraid he would vanish just as their lips locked. This, however, was no dream to be stored in the uppermost rooms of his memory palace. This was real.    
  
Hannibal tilted his head and hummed softly, helplessly, as their lips joined and slipped into place, every bit as perfect and heart-pounding as he had always imagined it would be.    
  
The music in the background stopped, finally out of record, and all Hannibal could hear was his own heart in his ears, and Will breathing as they shared a first kiss.

It was soft and sweet, nothing like the carnage they were both capable of, but rather showing of their other sides, for now, and all the adoration they felt toward each other. Will slipped his hand back to Hannibal’s neck, thumb against his jaw as he pressed in closer, locking their mouths  as he gently kissed Hannibal’s bottom lip.

Hannibal had kissed, and been kissed too many times to count. This was unlike any of them. He slid his hand into the back of Will’s hair, into his curls, and kissed him harder, winding their tongues together slowly and intimately as he parted his lips, and felt fire course through his veins.

Slowly, Will used Hannibal’s shoulders as leverage and hoisted himself into straddling his lap without breaking contact, their lips never parting once, as if they needed each other to live, to breathe. He pressed a thumb into Hannibal’s pulse, counting the beats and breaths they shared together as their kiss grew passionate.

Fingers curling tighter into Will’s hair, Hannibal pulled him down into the kiss, unable to get enough. He could feel the hot flush of Will’s cheek against his own, and kissed him harder for it, sucking at Will’s tongue, his shock beginning to wear off as he scraped his teeth over Will’s lower lip for a fleeting instant, and kissed him again.

The bite elicited a groan from the empath from deep inside his chest, pushing him to wrap his arms around Hannibal, carefully, but no less needy. “Hannibal-”

“Will-” Hannibal breathed out. Each of them could manage only the other’s name at the moment, on broken breath. Hannibal kissed Will passionately again, caressing Will’s lips with his own, tangling their tongues, teeth bumping gently between hungry mouths.

The sound of Will’s name on Hannibal’s breath drove a spike of lust right through his spine, into his core where it boiled, untamed now that Will had finally let it out. He kissed Hannibal harder for it, their chests heaving together, hip-to-hip as the brunet tried to resist the urge to grind down on Hannibal, to feel him through both their thinly made trousers.

The hand on Will’s back wandered lower, down his spine to his thigh, bare where Will’s shorts rode up. Hannibal moaned into Will’s mouth and ran his hand down the toned muscle to Will’s knee, and back up, slowly. They kissed ferociously now, like teenagers about to be pulled apart at any moment, unable to control their appetites.

Will had to remind himself that Hannibal was injured, and his movements slowed just a little, but the touch to his skin, to his thigh made his hips roll forward and down, obviously hard under his shorts. He breathed out ragged against Hannibal’s mouth, taking a breath.

Hannibal’s palm smoothed it’s way up Will’s thigh to the bulge in his shorts, and he rubbed the heel of his palm over it with a moan against Will’s tongue. Will felt perfect, and Hannibal longed to rend the shorts off of him and do everything he ever dreamed of with Will then and there. 

Slack jawed in that moment, Will panted out another moan as his fingers worked down the front of Hannibal’s shirt, undoing buttons in his wake, desperate to feel more skin now that they were being honest and intimate with each other openly.

Will moaning made Hannibal’s toes curl against the floor, and he rubbed the heel of his palm over Will’s trapped cock again. They had saved their passion for years, and allowed it to age like wine before finally pulling out the cork and drinking deep. It had been worth the wait.    
  
Hannibal’s chest rose and fell quickly under Will’s hand, hot to the touch with rushing blood under his flushed skin. “Will-” Hannibal managed again, between Will’s lips, then claimed them in another kiss as though afraid Will might pull away.

Roving and hand over Hannibal’s chest, Will bucked his hips into Hannibal’s palm, wanting to release all the tension that had built between them over the years, and only rekindled on seeing each other again, no matter how much denial was involved. He palmed down Hannibal’s chest  between their hips, brushing fingers against his bulge.

Hannibal gasped at the touch, and bit the side of Will’s throat, impulsively. His body strained to arch into the glorious feeling of Will’s hand against his cock, but the healing gunshot wound in his abdomen wouldn’t allow it. Instead, he sunk his teeth against the superficial nerves in Will’s neck, and sucked his skin while his fingers slipped Will’s button undone on his shorts.

Flushing harder with the bite, Will stood and let his short fall to his feet and stepped out of them, and then Helped Hannibal to his feet, guiding him to the couch in the living room, but never letting them part.

Hannibal followed Will, kissing and biting his way to Will’s ear, which he breathed against before biting at the lobe while Will settled him on the couch. He pulled Will down, over him, eager not to be parted for a moment after waiting years to touch like this.    
  
Will undid Hannibal’s pants and discarded them at their feet before crawling back over him as they laid over the couch. His hands freely roamed Hannibal’s skin this time, down to his hips, scratching fingers through the coarse hair at his groin. “Hannibal…”   
  
Hannibal’s mouth stalled for a moment, utterly distracted by the touch of Will’s hands on his bare skin. His shirt was undone, pants off, his skin was Will’s for the touching. He undid Will’s shirt, at the neck, then pulled it off of him, over his head, and kissed Will’s lips the second they were beyond the hem of Will’s polo shirt.    
  
With his other hand, Hannibal shucked off Will’s boxers, slowly, and wound their legs together, nothing between them.

Will gazed down at Hannibal,  palming his cock between his thighs, getting a feel for it, how hard and heavy it was in his hands, really taking Hannibal in, in ways he had never done before. Hannibal was breathtaking, even injured. Will bent and kissed him again, slowly, this again, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip.

If ever Hannibal had felt he could simply melt like heated chocolate, it was with Will’s hand on him, and Will’s mouth kissing him with teeth. Hannibal gripped Will, and began to stroke him slowly and firmly, thumb rubbing over the already slick tip of Will’s cock with every motion as he moaned at the feeling of Will’s mouth on his.

“How often have you dreamed of this?” Will whispered, his voice deep with lust as they worked each other over, heat boiling in the base of his spine.

“More often than I have slept,” Hannibal replied, as he stroked Will, squeezing him just so as he twisted his hand around Will’s cock. He kissed Will again, breathlessly, and gasped at the feeling of tension coiling deep in his body. 

Breath hitching, Will bucked his hips hard into Hannibal’s fist, grunting against his mouth as he did the same for Hannibal, twisting his wrist and fisting him hard, thumbing at the tip of nerves there. “Tell me.”

“In my office, on the chaise lounge, against the ladder leading to the library…” Hannibal whispered as he dragged blunt nails down Will’s back while he stroked him, and whispered against Will’s ear. “We’d argue, drifting closer and closer until our mouths pulled together, like magnets…”

“Could have been plausible,” Will panted, feeling himself reaching the edge, he grasped them both with one hand and started to rev his hand faster, both of them leaking pre-come over the other.

Hannibal moved his own friction-hot hand down to roll and tug at Will’s balls as he kissed his mouth, feverishly. “I very nearly kissed you more than once,” Hannibal confessed.

“You should have,” Will groaned, just the thought of it made him buck hard, sliding against Hannibal’s cock with his own, and then heat burst all at once through his groin, slicking himself and Hannibal completely.

Holding himself back was impossible when he felt Will erupt against him in a hot flash, and Hannibal gasped, then moaned, long and loud as he came against Will, hard enough to leave him a shaking, shuddering, sticky mess beneath the man he’d loved for years. 

“Oh,” Will groaned, watching Hannibal come apart with him, and then they slowed, a sticky, sweaty mess. “I’ll admit, I had a few dreams like this…”

“A few?” Hannibal asked, breathlessly. He wrapped both arms around Will, holding him as close as his wound would allow as they came down together, trembling.

“Yeah,” Will admitted softly, and kissed Hannibal’s lips again, gently, watching him up close.

"Tell me,” Hannibal whispered, between soft kisses, and stroked his hand through Will’s hair, down his back, utterly enamored.

Will swallowed, looking into Hannibal’s eyes. “When I sailed to find you. I dreamed of a better reunion, that we'd find each other and finally make this what it was.”

“A shame we did not have the chance,” Hannibal said, softly, and kissed Will’s lips again.

“We both had priorities,” Will murmured against Hannibal's lips, and then deepened it with a soft groan.

“Unfortunately,” Hannibal sighed, and kissed Will back, slowly and sensually. “I admit, it was well worth the wait.”

“It was,” Will agreed, another kiss to Hannibal’s lips, unable to resist. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

“Gladly,” Hannibal agreed, although he wanted nothing more than to stay curled up with Will for hours. They did need to clean up.

“Let’s use the washroom down here,” Will suggested, slowly getting off Hannibal, both of them covered in sweat and come. He held up a finger and went to turn off the stove first and then came back to help Hannibal to his feet, leading him back to the bathroom.

“I trust you left the oven on…” Hannibal murmured as Will helped him to his feet, concerned for the fate of his roast.

“I did. I just turned off the rice,” Will said, not wanting it to burn. He wrapped his arms around Hannibal as he lead him toward the shower. “Can your dressing get wet?”

“Wet is fine, soaking it is not,” Hannibal said, still too entranced by Will, too high on the endorphins racing through his bloodstream to feel very much pain. He’d almost forgotten all about it. 

Will just smiled at that and sat Hannibal on the side of the tub there, and got a cloth from the closet, and wet it in the sink. He squatted down in front of Hannibal and cleaned him off this way, slowly.

Hannibal chuckled, and flushed, watching as Will cleaned his skin with care, then pulled him in for another kiss with one hand against the back of Will’s neck. “I’ve never been the recipient of a sponge bath, before.”

“No?” Will whispered, hand on Hannibal’s hips now, the cloth in his lap as he tilted his chin up to kiss Hannibal again, unable to stop himself. “First time for everything.”

Hannibal ran his other hand up Will’s chest, to rest over his heart as they kissed. “You have been many firsts, for me.”

“Which?” Will asked, curiously, gazing into Hannibal’s eyes as their lips barely touched in  soft, barely there kisses.

Hannibal smiled, unsure where to begin. “You are the first patient I have ever developed feelings for, the first person I have ever been so eager to see that I’ve made a fool of myself by driving for hours, just to deliver breakfast…” Hannibal said, smiling as Will sponged him down.

Will chuckled, wiping the cloth over Hannibal’s chest and shoulders, neither of them having showered yet since they got here. “I remember driving hours to you, as well… for coffee.”

“And to deliver a bottle of wine, but not to stay for dinner,” Hannibal remembered, sighing happily under Will’s care.

“And for that,” Will said, less bashful now than he might have been then. He’d never known someone like Hannibal, someone that knew him thoroughly and yet he could surprise often. Now seemed one of those times.

“I saved the bottle,” Hannibal admitted with a gleam in his eyes. “Before Francis shot me, I’d just poured us both a glass of it, finally.”

“I got to taste it, a little,” Will admitted, coyly, and washed Hannibal’s neck, down his arms, to his hands.

Hannibal stretched his neck as Will washed him, and leaned closer to kiss Will’s mouth, soundly. “It was not the taste that led me to save it for so many years, or wait to share it with you. When you left my house in search of the Chesapeake Ripper that evening, I realized there was no one with whom I’d like to share that bottle, but you.”

“Had I only known,” Will whispered, wiping down Hannibal’s other shoulder and hand, and then his hips, making sure all the come and sweat was washed away.

Will washing him like this was better than any bath, or shower. Hannibal stretched back as much as he could, which admittedly, was not far. “I do wish Francis hadn’t shot the bottle, we might have thought to take it with us,” Hannibal joked.

“It wasn’t anything special,” Will offered, wiping down Hannibal’s neck, down his back. “If I tried, I’m sure I could find it again.”

“It was a gift from you,” Hannibal said, as he leaned closer to Will, and slid both arms around Will’s bare back, then kissed the marks left on Will’s throat by his teeth, earlier. “It had nothing to do with the vintage, or the brand.”

“Should I find another, it’d be another gift,” Will countered, neck stretched back as his hand stopped washing long enough to enjoy the feel of Hannibal’s lips on him, nothing at all like he’d ever imagined.

“Then we could save it for a few more years, and open it on the anniversary of the day we finally stopped playing games,” Hannibal whispered in Will’s ear as he ran both hands down Will’s back, caressing the small of his back, and the firm muscle of his ass.

“I’ll see what I can find at the market next time,” Will offered quietly, pressing a kiss into the corner of Hannibal’s mouth, and then stood, helping Hannibal to his feet. He set the cloth in the sink, and the water on in the shower.

Hannibal stood with Will. Pain began to radiate through his body, no matter how blissful his mind was, and he moved stiffly, but cupped Will’s face with both hands for a long, deep kiss. “Thank you, Will, for everything.”

Will melted right into Hannibal’s hands, kissing him back slowly. “You’re welcome.” He sighed. “Go have some rice and take your medication. I need to rinse off.”

Hannibal nodded, and kissed Will once more before he wrapped a towel around his hips, and let Will step into the shower as he moved back to the kitchen, with measured, careful strides.    
  
Hannibal served himself some rice, and took his medication, then ate at the table as he stared at their discarded clothing on the sofa. The mess of clothing was proof that it was real, at last.    
  
Having taken his painkiller with the antibiotic, Hannibal’s mind began to unfocus a little, and he listened closely to the shower in the other room. Will could leave now … he could easily leave the shower running to cover the sound of his movements, and disappear completely. Hannibal began to half expect it.

Only, Will stepped out moments after that, another towel found and wrapped around him, and he stepped out into the kitchen, smelling of soap and shampoo, fresh and clean, drops of water dribbling down his chest and neck, hair matted to his head.

“Feeling better?”

Relief flooded Hannibal’s eyes when Will stepped back into the kitchen, which he hoped Will would attribute to the influence of the painkillers, and he set his fork down, and nodded. “Much, yes. Have you had enough to eat, Will?”   
  
“I’ll be fine until dinner,” Will promised, tucking the end of the towel into the other part of it, letting it hang from his hips. He brushed a hand down Hannibal’s head fondly.   
  
Hannibal smiled up at Will, much with the same awestruck expression he wore the day Will walked in after surviving his confrontation with Tobias. He stood, and cupped Will’s face with both hands. “I had half convinced myself while you were in the shower that I’ve dreamed everything, and would wake soon, alone.”

“Have I given you reason to think I would leave?” Will asked, quietly, one hand resting on Hannibal’s hip, opposite his wound.

Hannibal considered it, and rested his forearms on Will’s shoulders. “No. This is new territory, for both of us. Never before have I been with anyone I have feared to lose,” he admitted, softly, and swallowed after he spoke, averting his eyes.

“If anyone has a right to the fear of being abandoned, it’s me,” Will said, moving his head slightly to get Hannibal’s gaze again, him searching for the other’s eye contact for once. “But, trust me when I say, I have nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Hannibal thought of the massacre in his kitchen as his reckoning with Will, hardly an abandonment. Was it possible to abandon a man, after all, if the gifts of one’s friendship was apparently unwanted? “As is the case when one is blessed with sudden good-fortune, I suppose our new clarity will take a little time to become familiar, to become part of the fabric of our everyday lives.”   
  
Hannibal smiled, almost to himself, and pulled Will closer, now that he could. “I cannot imagine a greater happiness than this, every day.”   
  
The worst point of Will’s life was being gutted and left there by Hannibal, but he didn’t say that, he didn’t mention it. It wasn’t important anymore, was it? “Then we’ll work toward it being this… everyday.”

Hannibal rested his head against Will’s, and breathed with him, eyes closed as their chests rose and fell against one another. “I cannot imagine a more perfect future,” he whispered, sincerely, no person suit hiding his emotions. Hannibal was raw, exposed, full of nerves for Will to stroke or strike, such was love … apparently.

“Neither can I,” Will whispered back, and pressed his lips to Hannibal’s once more, just to prove it.


	4. Chapter 4

A few weeks in, and Hannibal was finally doing well enough that they could dress normally and go out together, instead of Will going out alone. He bought a few reusable shopping bags  in his ventures and had them stuffed into one bag, over his shoulder, taking Hannibal’s hand with the other as they went for a leisurely stroll toward town.

  
Holding Will’s hand in public felt natural, as though they had always done exactly that. Hannibal could not help the soft smile on his face under the wide brim of his white hat, glad that he could finally leave the house. “No,” Hannibal said, pre-emptively and softly as a stray dog trotted across the narrow street.

Will canted his head toward Hannibal with a quirked brow. “No?” His gaze followed the dog to an alley where it disappeared, his facial expression changing to that of something worried. “You’d deny me  _ one _ dog?”

“One dog will very quickly become eight,” Hannibal said, knowingly.

“We have the room,” Will noted with a lower tone, nearly whispered as he looked away from the alley, fingers clutched to Hannibal’s tightly.

“We have Cuban Mahogany flooring,” Hannibal reminded Will as they neared the street market and it’s fresh produce.

Will rolled his eyes at that, staying very quiet and to himself as they walked, both cutting a dapper image in the hot, dusty town. They didn’t look quite like tourists, but definitely not as though they didn’t belong there either.

Hannibal squeezed Will’s hand as they walked, well aware that Will wanted to take in every stray they saw. “Cuba has an excellent climate for roving dogs. I doubt they are suffering as they would in Wolftrap in the winter,” he sighed.

With a silent sigh, Will simply nodded his ardent understanding. They walked to one produce stand where Will frequented every other day for the past few weeks, and the woman waved to him and offered him fresh fruit to try, and then nudged the bowl toward Hannibal.

Hannibal nodded his thanks and took a sliver of papaya, trying it thoughtfully. “We’ll take four, please,” he said to the vendor, then appeared to examine the shiny, silver surface of one of the poles that kept the tent over their heads aloft.    
  
In it, he could see three men watching them, intently.   
  
Will paid the woman and put the fruit into one of the bags he pulled from the one larger one, stuffing the rest of his money into his pocket. His gaze flitted over to Hannibal’s and then gently over his shoulder casually. “They’ve been following me for weeks since I bought the cocaine off them.”   
  
“I see,” Hannibal said, calmly, and took Will’s hand again. “Always the three of them?”

“Always has been,” Will replied, nodding his thanks to the woman as they moved along. “I’ve refused to buy from them twice now.”

“They are aware that you have access to large amounts of cash, and they’re carefully investigating what else you may have,” Hannibal said as he stopped at another vendor, and selected a few small bags of spices after smelling them.

“You and a knife,” Will answered cryptically, should they over hear them, though it was not likely. Hannibal smiled a little, and passed a bag of spices to Will for him to smell. “This would be excellent for a spit-roasted leg,” he hinted, with a smile. “Don’t you agree?”

Will smelled the packet and handed Hannibal money for the item before putting it in their bag. He slipped his knife into his hand from his pocket, thumbing the trigger for the blade. “I do.”

After paying for the spices, and thanking the vendor, Hannibal kissed Will’s cheek. “They’ll wait until we’re alone, out of the market. Causing a scene here would work against them,” he said, with serene confidence, as they passed the butcher’s, not in need of meat today. 

That might have been, but Will kept his hand on his knife anyway, just in case, in his pocket. “They’ve tried to follow me home before. Usually take a cab a while away from us and walk home.”

“Why in the world didn’t you mention any of this before?” Hannibal asked, and trailed his fingers over a folded linen tablecloth on a vendor’s table, which he stopped to look at, fingering the fine stitching at the edges.

“And worry you?” Will asked, drawing no attention to themselves, though now that they knew he was with someone, it was likely they would double their efforts, despite Hannibal’s age, or how he might look.

“Do I seem at all worried, Will?” Hannibal retorted, in an almost offended tone.

“You wouldn’t have Sent me out alone while you heal,” Will said, defensively.

“I may have been reluctant, had I known,” Hannibal admitted as he tugged on Will’s hand, steering him away from another stray dog, and toward the vendor who carried wine and rum.

Will sighed, relenting enough to let Hannibal have his way. Little did the doctor know that Will had befriended the dogs for the weeks he had come alone. “I’m still in one piece, despite that.”

“You’re hardly helpless,” Hannibal murmured, and glanced at Will’s cheek scar, affectionately.

The dragon had caught him off guard, that was true. Will glanced over at Hannibal with a look, his shoulder aching at the thought. “Drug cartel are not the Great Red Dragon.”

“Like slaying a dragon, it’s best if members of a cartel are given a quiet, private goodbye,” Hannibal mused as he selected three bottles of wine.

Will handed over more cash to Hannibal to pay for his needs, and then opened one of the bags that had slots for wine bottles. “Agreed.”

Hannibal did not attempt to hide the cash as he paid, and stuffed the remainder in his pocket with showy carelessness. “I’m fairly certain we can count on guests when we head home. We’ll have to set a few more places at the table.”

“I don’t think it’s the table we’ll need to worry about.” Will stuffed the rest of his cash into his pocket and held the bags in one hand as they grew heavier.

“Shall we head back?” Hannibal asked, one hand on Will’s back as they reached the end of the market, loaded down with their purchases. The pair of them made an attractive target: wealthy and hampered by their purchases in the market. Hannibal was counting on it.

Will hummed, holding out his hand once more for Hannibal’s, now bogged down with heavy purchases. “Of course.”

Hannibal laced their fingers together, the insides of their wrists touching as they walked down the increasingly narrow road. One of the dogs, a smaller one, began following Will like it knew him. Hannibal looked back at it with a frown. “A friend of yours?”

“Why would you ask?” Will murmured, turning to look at the dog who growled at others but seemed to relish at Will’s attentions, and kept following.

The little stray was supremely ugly with a healed-over, torn ear, one missing front leg, and a spotty coat in need of brushing. “He seems like just your type.”

“Rude, Doctor,” Will said, with a look, and wiggled his fingers holding the bag, which made the dog trot forward. Will dropped a treat from his pocket.

The dog snorted as he gobbled the treat up from the dirt road, and then trotted more quickly after Will, wagging his matted tail. Hannibal exhaled a long sigh through his straight nose, and gave Will a look. “Is that a dog biscuit you dropped from your pocket, Will?”

“No,” Will said, honestly. It was a bit of jerky he’d made for the dogs, of course, not a biscuit.

Hannibal just looked back at the ugly little dog, and his ragged claws that would wreak absolute havoc on the beautiful wood flooring. “He looks like a dog made of the spare parts of other unfortunate dogs, Will.”

“He’s been through hell, no doubt,” Will offered, and dropped more jerky for the horrible looking mut, and took the moment to look behind them for any sign of the cartel thugs.

Three figures lingered in the distance. They were hardly obvious in their pursuit, but still following Hannibal and Will, nonetheless.

“Have you already named him, in your mind?” Hannibal asked, with a tone that suggested he already knew the answer.

“Would a positive answer to the question change your mind on letting me have just  _ one _ dog?” Will asked.

“Would you clip and file down his claws so that he does not ruin our floors?” Hannibal bargained, quite aware that if he did not let Will have one dog, he would likely feed every dog he met until their house was surrounded by a roving pack of them.

“I always keep my dogs trimmed,” Will offered back, agreeing here and now, even if the dog was ugliest one of the bunch he’d been feeding, it was the nicest.

“And he will be bathed and groomed … as much as is possible?” Hannibal asked, bargaining the terms of Will’s little stray. Hannibal had never wanted a dog, but … Will had never wanted mahogany flooring. Such compromises were, Hannibal reasoned, part of being together. 

“Yes, everyday if you want,” Will agreed, coming up on their house now, and the dog barked. “I call him Vincent.”

Hannibal laughed at that, unexpectedly, and looked back at ‘Vincent’. “Is the name owing to his missing ear?” Hannibal asked, and unlocked the heavy front door, then stepped through, leaving it open to let the warm, moist ocean air circulate into the house. 

“How’d you guess?” Will grinned, setting down the bags in kitchen, letting the little dog follow, sure that the cartel thugs were well on their way to the front door. He pulled out his knife, flicking it open, and readied his other hand with a large butcher’s knife from the block.

Hannibal sliced some of the ham that they kept in the fridge, and then put it in a small bowl. He set the bowl in the bathroom, and Vincent followed the smell of food, eagerly. Hannibal closed the door after him, and withdrew another knife from the butcher’s block. “An educated guess,” he said, and tilted his head at the soft sound of a shoe against polished floor toward the front entrance. He nodded at Will, and stood at the ready, coiled ready to strike from behind the large shape of a grandfather clock near the mouth of the kitchen.

Will only hummed, and slipped off his shoes, walking silently around the corner to the living room, which came up right behind the three men who entered the house with caution, but not caution enough. Will threw the first knife into the neck of the man closest to him, right under his skull where his spine met, dropping him to the floor completely paralyzed, but very much alive.

The other two turned in surprise, and tried to attack Will, one with a blade of his own, one with a gun. Hannibal lunged from behind the clock, and grabbed the man with the gun. He sliced the man’s wrist of the man’s hand that pointed the gun at Will, deeply, from the inside, and the gun hit the floor with a clatter and a bright spray of arterial blood as severed tendons sprang apart, rendering the man’s hand useless.    
  
Hannibal plunged his blade through the man’s ribs, next, into his right lung, deflating it like a balloon as he wrestled the gunman to the floor. Will picked up the dropped gun quickly, and held it to the last man’s head.

“Drop the knife,” he said, well aware they knew English.

The third assailant turned the knife in his hand as he watched his two accomplices lie on the floor. Hannibal kept his knee in the gunman’s back, and followed Will’s lead, paralyzing him with a swift, strong strike of the knife to his cervical vertebrae, which sent the gunman limp, but still alive. “It’s best to listen to him,” Hannibal told the last would-be robber, calmly, his face spattered in blood.   
  
The man held the knife out like he was about to drop it, then bolted toward the open front door, trying to make a run for it. 

A low growl left Will’s chest as he started off after the man, sliding on the wood floors until he reached the porch and then his socked feet gripped better on the dirt, taking off after the man with a jogger’s stamina. Will caught up quickly, with Hannibal following behind, sprinting as quickly as he could after Will and the fleeing man. If he reached the road and flagged down a passing car, they were all but discovered. Hannibal sliced the man’s achilles tendon on one side with his blade, just behind his ankle, and the fleeing robber fell to the dirt road below. Will jumped on the fallen man before he could even leave the drive, and drove the last knife down into his neck, just like the others. The man coughed and sputtered on blood with Will on his back as he tried to scream and gurgled, instead.

Will looked up at Hannibal, blood splattered, and breathing heavily. “Lunch?”   
  
The man under Will finally died, and Hannibal smiled down at his bloodied darling, then crouched to kiss him on the lips. “Lunch. I don’t suppose you’re familiar with how to smoke large quantities of meat?”   
  
Hannibal could hear a car coming down the road, and stood between the body and Will, and the road. A little car sped by, the only face turned toward their ghastly scene was a staring child as the car passed. 

Will nodded a little as he stood, starting to drag the body back toward the house. “It’ll take time, but I could do it.”

“That would be wise,” Hannibal said, as he picked up the feet of the dead body so as not to leave tell-tale drag marks in the dirt. “We have far more than we could possibly use before it spoils.”

“Smoked is the best way to go then,” Will commented, picking up under the arms as they took the body into the house, and piled on top of the others. “I can get everything ready for that if you can… dismember?”

Hannibal looked over the three bodies, and nodded. He had his work cut out for him. “In that case, perhaps we should let Vincent out of the bathroom, and I can work in the tub for the time being, then do the finer cuts in the kitchen.”   
  
Hannibal pulled Will closer, and thumbed droplets of blood from his handsome face. “How on Earth is it possible that you are more stunning when spattered with blood?”

Will’s eyes roved over Hannibal’s face up close, they’d grown much closer in the last few weeks, healing and touching, fondling, anything to be closer. “I think you’ve always known that though… ever since my first kill…”

Hannibal cupped Will’s bloodied cheek with one hand, and stared into his eyes. The red of blood made Will’s eyes seem surreal, so blue that they seemed painted in. “It was a beautiful moment to share.”

“It was,” Will agreed, and leaned in to kiss Hannibal softly, just at first.

Hannibal breathed in the mingling scents of adrenaline and blood, and kissed Will back, slowly, pulling him into his arms, and up against his body as their lips locked like they had been carved out of the same piece of stone.

This is what was meant to have happened on that cliff, not the plunge Will threw them down over the cliff for, but this blending of souls, meshing through lips, tongue, and teeth. Will held Hannibal closer.

Hands moving into Will’s hair, Hannibal tugged at the soft strands, and sucked Will’s tongue, sensually, nearly able to taste the high that ran through Will’s veins from their triumph over their trio of vanquished stalkers.

“Hannibal-” Will groaned out, softly, gasping as their mouths blended together, meshing perfectly, their teeth clicking as it became heated, standing over the bodies of their victims. He grasped as Hannibal’s waist, gripping tightly.

Hannibal moved closer so that they were pressed together, tightly, from their thighs to their collarbones, hearts pounding against one another. He walked Will backward, to the sofa, and laid him on it, then crawled over Will, never allowing their lips to part.

They had a lot of work ahead of them, but a rush like this couldn’t be ignored, especially after blood was spilled. Will pulled Hannibal over him more, and kissed him harder, hands working up his shirt, tugging it out of his pants to feel tanned, healing skin.

“Will-” Hannibal whispered, breathing the name into Will’s lips as he began to slip the buttons of Will’s shirt undone, other hand still in Will’s hair. “You were breathtaking..”

Will’s only response was to kiss Hannibal harder, again and again, and started to undo his shirt, shrugging out of his own to reveal even lines of honed muscle and tanned skin from working out on the docks.

Hannibal palmed Will’s toned shoulders, slowly, after tossing Will’s shirt on the floor. His hands wandered down Will’s arms to his sides, down to his narrow waist and then to Will’s belt, which Hannibal undid as he slid a knee between Will’s thighs, up against his balls, giving Will something to grind against.

Quickly getting Hannibal’s shirt off, Will pushed it off  and tossed it with his own, both bloodied anyhow. He dragged Hannibal in for another long, passionate kiss as he brought one knee up and rocked his hips into Hannibal’s leg with a groan.

Nothing, no piece of music on Earth, could ever be as beautiful to Hannibal’s ears as the sound of Will groaning in pleasure. Hannibal’s dark eyes opened, lids heavy with lust, and he began to bite the side of Will’s throat, licking blood off of it as he undid Will’s trousers, and gripped his cock with one hand, stroking him slowly.

“Oh-” Will gasped, gripping Hannibal’s hips and then let his fingers trail down to his pants, undoing them quickly, fair was fair, and he wanted to touch more of Hannibal’s skin.

Hannibal writhed out of his trousers, long legs working to slide them off. In the tropical heat, he preferred nothing beneath them, and his cock rubbed against Will’s, hard already, pulsing with the rush of blood. He opened his hand and started to stroke them together as he sucked Will’s earlobe, gasping against the delicate cartilage with pleasure.

This they had done often for the last few weeks, all that Hannibal had been capable of, and honestly, the best way to work Will toward more. He carded his hand through Hannibal’s hair that was longer now, tugging roughly as he gasped. “More,” he stated, ready to move on to the next level from here, ready to feel every inch of Hannibal.

Hannibal turned his head and kissed Will’s mouth, with heat. He moaned into it and rutted his hips against Will, the slide of their cocks together in his hand driving his senses wild with the fresh smell of blood still hanging in the air over and around them both. “More? Say it, Will. Tell me what you want,” Hannibal whispered.

“You. All of you,  _ feel _ you inside me,” Will said, having fantasized about it for weeks, wondering what it would be like, what it might feel like to be completely filled and connected in every way possible.

If Hannibal’s well-tuned mind were a harpsichord, all of its strings would have snapped at once. He gasped, and one of his hands caressed Will’s jaw before two long fingers brushed Will’s rosy lower lip. “Then I’ll need to prepare you.”

Will nodded and parted his lips slightly, not sure what all that meant, honestly, but he knew Hannibal would guide him. He kicked off his slacks completely, to the floor. “How?”

“Suck my fingers, Will,” Hannibal whispered, his fingertips caressing the beautiful swell of Will’s lips, “and I’ll show you.”

Will took Hannibal’s fingers into his mouth with a bow of his head, wrapping his tongue around the tips and pads, sucking gently with the soft scrape of his teeth, tasting copper and blood from their fresh kill.

Hannibal closed his eyes, slowly, and curled his finger against Will’s soft tongue, twisting them inside Will’s mouth languidly until they were sopping wet. He pulled them out, and kissed Will’s wetted lips again as he rubbed his slick finger tips against Will’s entrance.

Gasping, Will spread his thighs, the most he could on the couch, and pulled Hannibal in for another long, heated kiss and ground down against his finger, sensitive against his nerves there. “Oh…”

They had done a lot over the last few weeks, but nothing like this, quite yet. Hannibal let Will become accustomed to the feeling, and then slipped one finger tip into him, very, very slowly. “Breathe…”

“I am,” Will managed to whisper, more of a harsh sound than anything else, his head falling back against the couch, hips arched.

Will was tight, even around Hannibal’s finger, which made his cock throb with hungry anticipation. He kissed and bit Will’s arched throat as he rocked his finger into Will, thankfully slowly. Eventually, Hannibal’s finger stroked the inside of Will’s body, slowly, stoking nerves that had never been touched before, nearing Will’s prostate. 

It burned hard and then once he got used to it, everything turned to pleasure, slowly. “There…”

“That is only the beginning,” Hannibal whispered against Will’s ear, seductively, and very, very gently stroked just the tip of his finger over Will’s prostate itself, then added his second finger, carefully.

Will shivered under Hannibal, arching up and against him, nearly wanting to crawl right out of skin with pleasure. “Then don’t stop.”

Both fingers twisted and flexed, massaging Will’s prostate slowly as Hannibal kissed his way up to the side of Will’s throat, then claimed his lips with a hard kiss. “It doesn’t have to end if you come,” Hannibal whispered, promising more than one orgasm for Will.

Will kissed Hannibal ravagingly, and wrapped his arms around his shoulders to keep him there, panting between breaths. “Hold you to it.”

“I keep my word,” Hannibal whispered, working his skilled fingers against Will’s most sensitive spot. He would make Will come as many times as he could, no hesitation in his mind.

Biting Hannibal’s bottom lip, Will groaned as a spike of pleasure burned straight through to his core, and his toes curled against the couch. “Just kiss me.”

Hannibal moaned, relishing Will’s command, and kissed him hard, pressing Will’s head into the cushions with it as he sucked Will’s tongue. Will groaned once again and reached for Hannibal’s cock between them, stroking as his body started to hum with pleasure.

Hannibal thrust into Will’s hand, gasping before he bit the lobe of Will’s ear and pulled his fingers out of Will’s body with a smirk. “Wait here,” he said, and stood to saunter to the kitchen.

Will let go and watched Hannibal's ass, he walked away, flushed from head to toe. “Don’t be too long.”

Hannibal looked back at Will, over his shoulder, and returned the blood-soaked living room with a bottle of olive oil in hand, and drizzled it over his cock before he stroked it, slicking his girth. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Hannibal whispered, and leaned over Will for a long kiss as he rubbed the tip of his cock against Will’s entrance, slowly, moaning at the sensation.

“I feel like dinner,” Will said, gazing deeply into Hannibal’s eyes as they kissed. He pivoted his hips up, taking Hannibal in slowly.

“I’ve wanted to feast on you for years,” Hannibal whispered, and pressed himself into Will’s body, trembling from the pleasure and the overwhelming feeling of closeness that washed through him when they began to fit together.

It was the very last piece of their perfect puzzle, sliding into place and bonding themselves as whole. The tea cup had finally come together, with both of them. Will reached and pulled Hannibal in for another kiss, hand on the back of his neck,as his body felt stretched thin and filled.

Hannibal kissed Will back after a moment of stunned stupor at the feeling of being inside Will. He began to thrust, slowly, steadily, working their bodies together, seamlessly, while they kissed. It felt like the most unbelievable, hyper-realistic dream Hannibal had ever had about Will.

Panting as he got used to the feeling, Will kept their mouths close, shaking with need under Hannibal as he moved in and out of him slowly at first, slicking his way inside of Will. “Hannibal…”

There were no words in the world to describe the passionate love Hannibal felt when Will said his name that way. He slipped one hand under Will’s head, and kissed his lips again, hips starting to buck a little harder into Will, easing him into the feeling of being filled and taken. 

Will breathed out with every punctuated thrust, against Hannibal’s mouth as their lips met and teeth clashed with feverish kisses. His body starting to hum with pleasure, pooling in the backs of his thighs.

Hannibal hoisted Will’s legs up, over his wide shoulders, and scratched his blunt nails down the backs of Will’s thighs before he took Will’s cock in hand and stroked it in time with the thrusts into Will’s body. They were crashing together now, like ocean waves, nothing gentle about their joining anymore. “Will-”

Will started to groan and gasp, hands and nails digging into the sofa under him. Heat burst through his loins, threatening to spill over all together.  “I'm-”

“Yes, come …” Hannibal moaned, and began to plow into Will with hard, sharp strokes of his cock, moving so fast that his muscles ached as he stared at Will, watching him as he was fucked for the first time. It was exquisite.

Nothing so far has been as good as this was between then, able to feel every bit of Hannibal as they blended together. Will came hard and fast, spilling over Hannibal’s knuckles and his own taut stomach. “Fuck…”

Hannibal could not help but come just after Will. His jaw dropped as he spilled inside Will, coating him as Hannibal’s senses whited out for a moment with indescribable ecstasy as he pressed himself into Will, completely.    
  
When Hannibal opened his eyes again, he was still kneeling, panting hard. He looked down at Will, both of them flushed, blood streaked, and sweaty. “Will,” he sighed, and leaned down to kiss Will’s pink lips, their mouths worn smooth and plump.

Will couldn’t help but chuckle as they kissed, and ran his hands up Hannibal’s shoulders, fingers carded through his hair. “I love you…”

Hannibal opened his eyes and stared at Will with absolute shock that melted into wonder, and then a teary smile on his elegant face as he leaned in, and gave Will a trembling kiss on the lips. Those words sent aftershocks through his body, and he carved them into the walls of every single room of his memory palace.    
  
“I love you, too, Will,” Hannibal managed to answer in an unsteady breath against Will’s lips, and a tear streaked down his cheek.

Will cupped Hannibal’s face, thumbing away the tear as they shared a sweeter, more intimate kiss, as if sealing their confession to one another. “I know.”

Hannibal smiled against Will’s lips, and kissed him again before he looked into his eyes. “One hardly needs to be an Empath to know that.”

“I think I’ve known for a while, I just didn’t want to see it,” Will whispered, only sorry it had taken them so long to get to this point.

“For how long have you known you loved me?” Hannibal asked, curiously, and laid with his head against Will’s shoulder on the couch, the bodies only fifteen feet over utterly forgotten.

“Romantically? Since I asked for your help to catch the dragon. I knew, I think, before that, but again, I didn’t want to believe,” Will answered, quietly, relishing in their shared intimacy, not yet ready to let go.

Hannibal smiled at that, and brushed his lips over Hannibal’s neck, then nuzzled his jaw. “You were not ready.”

“I did a lot of lying to myself for a long time,” Will admitted, resting their faces together.

“I can understand why. Being in love with someone like me would have been traumatic to the ego integrity of the man you pretended to be,” Hannibal murmured.

“Lots of half truths on my part,” Will whispered, watching Hannibal. “I wanted to be different, not who you said I was... who I  _ am _ .” “You are perfection as you are, Will,” Hannibal assured him, and kissed Will’s forehead. “Just as you are, and you always have been in my eyes … dogs and all.”

“And yet you don’t want the dogs,” Will chuckled, and sighed heavily, looking around the room. “We need to clean up.”

“I must be eased into life with dogs,” Hannibal said with a smile in the timbre of his voice, and kissed Will’s lips, then looked at the three slaughtered men on the floor. “Yes. I suppose we should. We have work ahead of us. What do you need for your smokehouse?”

“Nothing I can’t makeshift for now, I’ll go in town to get what I need while you work,” Will offered, brows raised up toward Hannibal.

Hannibal sighed at Will, and brushed growing, shaggy curls out of Will’s eyes before he kissed him again, very slowly.”I am reluctant to untangle from you, for any reason at all.”

“Me, too.” Will smiled gently, and kissed Hannibal deeper, holding it there.

Hannibal melted into the kiss, more content than he had ever been in his life. He deepened the kiss with a brush of his tongue against Will’s, and caressed the side of Will’s neck with one hand before he pulled back, reluctantly. “The only consolation is that we can return to this state, later.”

“Can’t wait,” Will whispered, letting go of Hannibal to allow him get up first, and then Will rocked up to his, sore feeling, and walked to the bathroom to clean up and let out Vincent the dog.

Hannibal followed, and started the shower, then stepped beneath the hot spray, which slicked his hair back. Vincent sniffed at Will, with a wag, then trotted out to investigate the bodies in the living room. “I can begin the large cuts, if you will trim Vincent’s claws, and prepare your smokehouse.”

“Done,” Will said, getting in behind Hannibal, knowing they would only get dirty again, but he had some more errands to run to get things going. He let the water wash over him, cleaning the flecks of blood from his skin.

With a grunt, Vincent jumped into the shower behind them, and stood under the warm spray with his eyes closed, which made Hannibal laugh, unexpectedly. “We have a guest,” he chuckled, and took the soap from it’s silver holder, then began to wash Will’s chest and stomach for him, slowly.

Will smirked down at the dog, and then let his shoulders roll back as Hannibal washed him, every scar on him pinker under the warm spray. “Probably doesn't get many baths.”

Dirt rolled out of Vincent’s patchwork coat, down the drain. “I will admit, I am somewhat impressed by a dog with an interest in hygiene,” Hannibal said, begrudgingly, and started to wash Will’s back as he held him close.

Will chuckled,, hands on Hannibal’s hips, skimming up the bullet wound that was now healing up nicely. “At least he’ll be clean.”

“At least,” Hannibal said with a soft smile, and kissed Will as he started to work shampoo into his curls, and massaged Will’s scalp with his fingertips.

Will hummed at the feeling of that, moving his head into Hannibal’s hands further. “Was thinking of cutting my hair…” he mentioned, looking to gauge Hannibal’s reaction.

“Oh?” Hannibal asked, raising one eyebrow. “How short?” He twisted some of Will’s curls around his fingers, like rings.

“Shaved,” Will replied, lifting his eyes to Hannibal’s, imploringly.

“Why?” Hannibal asked, slightly horrified at the thought. He caressed Will’s curls with one hand, protectively.

“So I won’t be recognized,” Will offered, but he raised his brows at Hannibal’s reaction. “I don’t have to, of course.”

“Your curls are exquisite,” Hannibal sighed, frowning like Will wanted to repaint his favorite room a bland color. 

“I’ll figure something else out then,” Will offered, smiling a little to know the other things that Hannibal held dear about him.

“It is, of course, your hair, your appearance, but I’ve always been so fond of your angelic curls, particularly in the mornings, recently. I think wearing a hat outdoors will be enough to conceal them, don’t you?” Hannibal asked.

“Okay,” Will agreed, pulling Hannibal against him a little more, kissing him with the promise that he wouldn’t touch the curls.

“Thank you,” Hannibal whispered, against Will’s lips, and worked conditioner into Will’s curls with his hands. He had no doubt at all that Will would be just as stunning with closely cropped hair, but Hannibal was attached to Will’s curls as they were. He’d spent hours sketching them in prison, capturing every wild tendril and how they reflected the light over Will’s head, framing his handsome face. “I do wish I could have brought the sketches I did of you when I was incarcerated.”

“A little late to go back for them now,” Will whispered, letting the wash rinse his hair clean, and then took up the soap to wash Hannibal’s chest with his hands.

“I suppose I’ll have to make new ones,” Hannibal said against Will’s lips, and kissed him again. “I did attempt to keep a journal, but in sanskrit, to frustrate Frederick. I kept it open during our interviews, with the full knowledge that he knew precisely what it was, and would never be able to understand it.”

“You’re terrible.” Will grinned at that though and washed down Hannibal’s shoulders and back, gently, over the branding scar with a little grimace.

Hannibal smiled at the touch, and laid his head against Will’s shoulder as Will washed the rough, but strangely elegant scar on his back. “A souvenir from Mason,” he explained. Will had never seen him being branded, after all, but Hannibal was certain he could guess.

Will sighed, and washed over it. “He left us with a lot of scars.”

“Ultimately, we left him with more,” Hannibal promised Will, loyally, and kissed him deeply. “Those Eels can be quite nasty.”

“That’s what happened?” Will asked, having never bothered Alana or Margot for details, he simply walked away from everything.

“Yes, the official version of the story is that I held Mason under while his captive Eel suffocated him by forcing himself down Mason’s throat,” Hannibal said, and turned off the water.

“Official, I assume, is not what happened,” Will said, shaking his head, and pulled off two towels from the rack, and handed one to Hannibal. Vincent shook out his fur.

“No, what happened was far more … therapeutic, as far as Margot is concerned,” Hannibal said as he dried his hair with his towel, then Will’s, and wrapped the towel around his hips.

Will thought that over but offered no answer. Mason Verger deserved everything he got in the end, and that was all that mattered. Will dried off once out and then gathered their discarded clothes and took them upstairs to find something else to wear back to town to find the supplies to make a smoke house.

When Will was upstairs, Hannibal used one of the less perfect towels to dry Vincent, whom, Hannibal had to admit, looked much better now that he was somewhat more clean. The scruffy, three-legged dog licked Hannibal’s hands for the toweling off, and Hannibal carried him upstairs to find something to wear while he dismembered the bodies.    
  
“Made a friend?” Will asked, a smile lighting his face as he watched Hannibal with the dog, dressed to go into town, and combed his hair, parted off to the side.   
  
Hannibal set the dog down on the marble tile of the bedroom floor, and gave Will a look. “Nonsense, I did not want his nails scratching the wood of the staircase,” Hannibal said, and looked Will over. “You look very dapper.”

Will set the hat on his head, and leaned over to kiss Hannibal. “I’ll get some clippers for his nails while I’m out.”

Hannibal kissed Will back, softly, twice. “Perfect, perhaps a dog shampoo as well? Might he have fleas?” Hannibal asked, while steering Vincent away from the bedding with one foot.

“He might. I’ll look around,” Will promised, and kissed Hannibal once more. “Keep him in the other bathroom, he’ll do less harm, for you, anyway.”

“I think I shall until he’s been subjected to a proper grooming,” Hannibal said, as Vincent looked up at him with large eyes. Hannibal found the clothing he knew would wash the best, and began to dress, slowly.

“Need help?” Will asked, getting his shoes on, still trying to help Hannibal when he could.

“Not at all, but I will never refuse your assistance in dressing, or undressing,” Hannibal smirked.

Will stood and helped Hannibal into his shirt, buttoning it up for him. “We’ll get nothing done if I help you back out of your clothes…”

“Perhaps after dinner, in that case,” Hannibal murmured, and kissed Will’s slightly marked throat as he held him with both arms around Will’s lean back, hands stroking Will’s shoulders through his shirt.

“Dessert.” Will wasn’t fond of desserts, but when it came to what they considered dessert these days, he was all for it. He nuzzled his scruffy face against Hannibal’s well shaven one.

“Dessert,” Hannibal whispered, fondly, and stole another kiss from Will, holding it for a long, long moment.

“I’ll be back.” Will gave Hannibal one last kiss, and then was gone.

He arrived back a few hours later by cab, the same one he’d been using when he could, and hauled the wood and other supplies around the back of the house, and then paid the driver fruitfully. 

By the time Will arrived home, the living room was spotless, once again, as was the driveway, cleaned to Hannibal’s exacting, meticulous standards. Hannibal was in the downstairs bathtub, dismembering the last body with a hacksaw, and an array of other tools. The parts he had no use for sat in a double-lined garbage bag, and the ‘meat’ laid in a wide basin, the cuts stacked very neatly, almost ready for sale in a butcher’s window. 

Will stuck his head inside once he had everything set up, and before he got to work, he bellowed a “I’m home” into the house and then got to work putting together the smoke house with plans he looked up on his new phone.

Will shouting that he was home was a wonderful sound. Hannibal smiled to himself, and kept working. An hour later, pushed the large garbage bag of waste parts outside on a stainless steel kitchen trolley, and watched Will work. “I should have mentioned before you went into town that a boat would be a very wise investment.”

“I’ve got a bid out on one,” Will said, smiling over at Hannibal, brick and stone were up now, setting in as Will worked pieces of wood around it, into a little house shape.

“Do you?” Hannibal asked with a knowing smile as he went to the enormous fire pit with the heavy bag on the trolley, and began to build what would be an enormous bonfire.

“I do. It’s not too big, just something to sail out on now and then, catch some fish further out on the ocean,” Will explained, and hammered a few boards together.  
“It would make disposing of the offal much easier,” Hannibal mused, while he stacked wood in a precise arrangement for the fire he had to build. Vincent came racing out of the house, over to Will, wagging.

Will rubbed the dog with one foot, fondly. “That’s true too.”

“Something to consider, for the future,” Hannibal said, and found a waterproof pack of matches hidden nearby, then struck one and tossed it into the small pieces of wood beneath the larger ones. They caught, immediately, and began to crackle.

“Should my bid go through, we’ll have a boat by the end of the week,” Will explained, and watched Hannibal for a moment and then went back to work, nearly finished.

“Splendid. In the meantime, once our fire is sufficiently hot, I’ll have to burn the waste. Thankfully, we don’t have neighbors who will complain of the smell, but I apologize to your senses in advance.” Hannibal looked at the vast stretch of land around the house, all of it dense jungle full of darkness and creatures not at all fond of human contact.

“We can cover it with the smoke smell,” Will said, the house not complete as he set the last board on it. It would need a finishing later, but for right now it was fine.

“I don’t have very much experience smoking meats, you’ll have to teach me,” Hannibal said over his shoulder as he stoked the wide bonfire until it was almost as tall as he was. The orange flames framed Hannibal’s shape in a gloriously hellish silhouette, making him look devilish as he contemplated the heat, unbothered by it.

“I’ll get it started. Brine the meat how you’d like it to be and then we can rack it into the house here,” Will said, fathering firewood left over and putting it into the bottom of the new little smoke house.

“We have so much meat, it will take some time to do it all,” Hannibal said, and opened the bag of offal, then donned gloves that he kept in his pocket and began to toss pieces into the hottest part of the fire.

“Yeah, it will. We’ll eat well for a long time at least,” Will sighed, and shut the house door to get the smoke going. “Where’s Vincent? I found a shampoo and clippers…”

Vincent came running out of the bushes with a mouse in his mouth, shaking it vigorously to kill it, which made Hannibal chuckle as he tossed more waste on the fire, careful not to put it all in at once, lest the fire go out.

“Not in the house, I see,” Will laughed, and pulled the shampoo and clippers from the bag on the porch, and kicked a tub over toward the hose. “C’mon boy.”

Vincent shook his mouse hard, then put it at Will’s feet, like a gift, and looked up at him, sweetly. Hannibal chuckled again, and finally emptied the bag of it’s contents in the fire, then tossed the bags themselves in, and walked toward Will and the dog. “He is prepared to earn his keep.”

“That is he,” Will said, and kicked the mouse off a little ways, and then scooped the dog up and put him in the tub. He turned the hose on and let it run down the still dirty dog’s body, despite the shower.

Vincent seemed to enjoy the bath, even if he looked mournfully after his mouse as Hannibal watched on. “He is much calmer than I would have expected of a dog off of the street.”

“He’s happy for consistent food,” Will chuckled, and stroked some shampoo through the muddled fur, fleas starting to drop off of Vincent.

Vincent laid in the tub, eyes closed as Will massaged the shampoo through his fur. “Perhaps he won’t be quite the terror I was expecting,” Hannibal said over his shoulder as he headed into the kitchen to continue refining the cuts of meat that waited for him. “Lungs for this evening?” Hannibal offered Will, through the open patio door.

“Whatever you want to make,” Will said, and rinsed the dog off, and then did another round, making sure all the fleas were off and drowned.

“It’s something I’d wanted to prepare for you in Baltimore, and never had the chance,” Hannibal said, as he worked, music playing in the background, the light, latin jazz Will seemed to enjoy. Hannibal wondered if it reminded him of New Orleans.

It did.

Will grabbed a towel he bought specifically for the dog, and dried him off and then put a flea collar on him. He then held him and clipped his nails, only after that did he let him go to run after his dead mouse.  Drying off his hands, Will went inside, boots left by the door, and watched Hannibal from the door frame.

“And what is that?”

Hannibal looked up at Will when he entered, as he laid another large, pink slab of muscle on a platter to go into the smoker. “Lung and loin bourguignon,” Hannibal said with a soft smile. “Somewhat counter to the influences of our current abode, but a little taste of home,” he promised, and added another cut to the platter.

“Home?” Will asked, coming up behind Hannibal, he hugged him, resting his chin on his shoulder as the music played in the background.

“Where we met,” Hannibal said, and looked over his shoulder at Will, with a smile. “Where our paths converged, and intertwined. Remarkable, when one considers we are both rather nomadic. In order for a chemical reaction to occur, the substances must first collide with sufficient force. Quantico was the site of our collision, but Baltimore was the site of our rather explosive, and irreversible reaction.”

Will hummed his reply, watching Hannibal work, able to feel the muscles in his back and shoulders move against his own chest. “You’ve put thought into this.”

“I’ve had ample time in which to do so,” Hannibal replied, and turned his head for a kiss.

Will squeezed Hannibal in his arms, and kissed his lips. “So you have.”

“If you’re tired from the day, rest upstairs with Vincent now that he’s clean. I’ll wake you for dinner,” Hannibal murmured. He had a lot of deep cleaning and kitchen-work ahead of him, after all. 

“Are you that busy?” Will asked, quietly, squeezing Hannibal gently in his arms, clearly looking for a little attention.

Hannibal looked over his shoulder again, with a gleam in his eyes. “Would you prefer I wasn’t?” he asked, slyly, knife still in his right hand.

“Are you finished preparing dinner?” Will asked, he’d be happy to wait.

Hannibal chuckled at the question, and kissed Will’s lips. “Not yet, I’ve barely begun. If you’d like to help, we could make short work of it.”

Will let go, and sighed. “What can I do?”

Hannibal dropped the knife, spun around quickly, and pinned Will against the fridge with a playful shove, then a hard kiss on the lips that silenced him. Will groaned at how quickly Hannibal could move now, used to him being fragile from the wound. He pulled him closer, and kissed him back with fervor.    
  
Hannibal pinned Will with his hands against Will’s shoulders, and then began to undo Will’s shirt, quickly, with an urgency that almost ripped the buttons off of their threads while Hannibal sucked Will’s lower lip, biting the soft, warm flesh.

Dinner could wait.

Hands only able to meet Hannibal’s waist, Will kissed him back, groaning. “Dessert first?”

“Life is uncertain,” Hannibal agreed, as he opened Will’s shirt, and ran both palms over his smooth chest, then downward. Hannibal slipped his hand between Will’s thighs, and kissed him again, palming him through his pants.

“Hannibal-” Will groaned, moving his hands to undo Hannibal’s shirt, able to move them again, and them rubbed them over his furry chest as they kissed.

Hannibal undid Will’s belt and pants with a few agile movements of his fingers, then reached through Will’s open fly and stroked Will through his boxers. “Dinner can wait.”

“Yes it can,” Will groaned, head falling back against the fridge, wanting nothing more to push Hannibal up against the counter and take him.

Hannibal bit the side of Will’s neck, teeth pinching and scraping muscles and tendons under his skin, then worked his way down to Will’s nipples, tugging and sucking them hard, rendering them pinker and even more sensitive than before as his hand worked Will’s cock, ceaselessly.

Will’s hands carded through Hannibal’s hair, tugging gently, at first, and then harder as his cock grew thicker in Hannibal’s palm, every part of him on  fire from the toes up. “Hannibal-”

Another bite to Will’s reddened nipple, and Hannibal looked up at Will as he kissed his way down Will’s stomach, over the curved scar he’d given him years ago, and finally sank to his knees, then gripped Will’s hips and pinned them to the fridge. He was on his knees, but still very much in charge.    
  
Hannibal held Will’s cock still, and then dragged the rough, wet flat of his tongue up the shaft, over Will’s seeping tip.

“Oh-” Will started to say his hand gripping tighter in Hannibal’s growing locks, trying to push his hips up into his mouth, but Hannibal had other ideas, keeping Will perfectly just  _ there _ .

Hannibal smirked, and looked up at Will, keeping him restrained as he caressed every inch of Will’s throbbing cock with his tongue, torturing him with pleasure. Will let out a pleased hum at that, stopping himself from wanting to fight back, and just enjoy what Hannibal was doing. He tugged on his hair in one fist, growling with pleasure.

The tug on his hair made Hannibal moan, and he wrapped his lips around the tip of Will’s cock, then swallowed it down and sucked. Hannibal’s tongue moved deftly inside his volcanically hot mouth, flicking and caressing at every nerve while he began to bob his head, very, very slowly.

Will groaned, fingers tensing in Hannibal’s hair, toes curling against the tiled floors under his feet. “That’s good,” Will managed to get out, fire building in his core.

Hannibal had always been good with his mouth. He held Will’s hips still, not allowing him to buck or thrust at all as he controlled everything with pulls of his cheek muscles and long curls of his infamous tongue. He hummed and moaned around Will, pausing for just a moment to let Will’s cock throb wet and abandoned in the air while he sucked Will’s balls instead.

“Tease,” Will panted, both hands in Hannibal’s hair now, grasping for anything he could as his cock throbbed, needy for more of whatever Hannibal was offering.

Hannibal pulled his mouth from Will’s balls and panted against them, then licked his shaft again, slowly. “Would you like me to stop?”

“No, no it’s good,” Will huffed, tugging Hannibal’s hair again as if to get him to stop that line of thinking.

Hannibal grinned, and stroked his tongue over Will’s balls, then sucked the tip of his cock, hollowing his cheeks. For just a moment, he let up on his grip on Will’s hips, letting him move. It was enough to let Will’s hips pivot into Hannibal’s mouth, sliding his cock against his tongue, while he palmed down the back of Hannibal’s head.

Hannibal moaned around Will, and took him down, deep, palming the cheeks of his ass, then slapped it. Will spread wider with the slap, groaning loudly as he pushed his cock down Hannibal’s throat.

“Fuck-”

Will liked that, Hannibal noted, with a groan that resonated in his chest. He slapped Will’s ass again, more sharply this time, able to feel the sting against his palm.

“That’s-” Will let out another moan, and then spread further, looking down at Hannibal. “I’m going to come… Hannibal-”

Hannibal moaned again, which made his mouth hum around Will’s cock. He spurred Will on, eager to taste him, and took him down his throat, deeply. Fingers gripped into Hannibal’s hair, Will pressed his cock into his mouth faster, the very last of his resolve melting as he came, hot and wet down Hannibal’s throat.

Hannibal pulled up so that Will came right across his tongue, hot and thick. He groaned, and swallowed, twisting his tongue around Will’s pulsing cock, and sucked him dry, then swallowed, twice, and pulled off of him. “As delicious as I’d always imagined.”

Will leaned his head back against the fridge and chuckled, completely blissed out in that moment. He pulled Hannibal gently to his feet and kissed him. “I won’t ask how many times you’ve imagined it.”

“Countless times,” Hannibal whispered, and kissed Will again, slowly and breathlessly, then pulled him toward the counter.

“Not disappointed?” Will asked between the kisses as he let himself be lead.

“How could I be?” Hannibal asked, as he pressed Will against the counter with a hard kiss, and caressed his hands down Will’s back, slowly, to his ass. 

“Good,” Will grunted, bare against the counter where Hannibal was still clothed.

Hannibal pulled one of Will’s legs up to his hip, and held it there as he ran his hand along the underside of Will’s thigh to his ass, caressing the muscle there before he traced his fingertips along the sensitive pucker of his entrance.

“Here on the counter?” Will asked between kisses, working Hannibal’s pants undone, and palming down his cock.

"Yes,” Hannibal moaned, his eyes going half-closed with lust as Will touched him. “Right here, on the counter.” He lifted Will so that Will sat on the counter, and leaned Will back, against the polished cabinets.

Will spread once again.“Okay,” he breathed, and kissed Hannibal again, hotly.  
“Have you ever thought about being taken in the kitchen?” Hannibal whispered, and found their bottle of olive oil against the counter, where he’d put it before. They had to invest in something more suited to the purpose, but this would do for now. 

“Maybe,” Will teased, biting Hannibal’s bottom lip, breathing against it. “A few times when we cooked together…” The thoughts hadn’t lingered long, back then, but they were coming back to him now.

Hannibal’s fingers, slick again, found their way to Will’s entrance and pressed inside him, two at once as he kissed the words from Will’s mouth and clutched his free hand in Will’s soft curls. “So did I…”

“Wish we had,” Will admitted with a groan, and flushing hot with pleasure already.

“So do I,” Hannibal whispered, their faces resting together. “I wanted to bend you over the island and take you while I marked your throat with my teeth,” he whispered as he flexed his fingers inside Will, and scissored them, spreading Will open.

“Nothing stopping you now,” Will whispered back, gazing into Hannibal’s eyes as he was all but bent in half like this.

Hannibal slipped his fingers out of Will, and then pulled him closer, so that Will’s perfect ass hung just enough over the edge of the counter, and then guided himself in, slicked with oil again, and hard. He stared at Will, breathlessly, as his girth penetrated him, their eyes locked. “Nothing stopping us now,” he agreed.

“Us,” Will echoed back with a gasp that turned into a long groan as leaned back on the counter to hold his weight up eyes lidded.

“Us,” Hannibal breathed, moaning the word as he pushed himself all the way into Will, and began to build a rhythm with Will’s lean legs hooked over his elbows, which spread Will wide, perfectly.

Will dropped to his back and griped the counter with his fingers, moaning as Hannibal started to thrust  into the sweet spot, coursing pleasure through him right off. “Hannibal-”

The sound of Will gasping his name like that somehow seemed to turn Hannibal on even more. He laid Will’s legs over his shoulders and started to fuck him, hard, his hips slapping Will’s firm ass firmly enough to turn it pink. 

Will gripped Hannibal’s forearms tightly instead, eyes rolling back in his head as his cock got hard all over again, threatening to spill again, even though Hannibal had just sucked him dry. “Oh…”

Will’s expression of utter ecstasy was the most arousing sight Hannibal had ever seen. His hand gripped Will’s hip on one side as he fucked him, mercilessly, while the other slapped Will’s ass. Hannibal’s eyes flashed dark, “you like being spanked, don’t you, Will?”

The ex agent panted and nodded. His whole body throbbed to one pulse, fire spreading answer building through his core. The slap was a thrill, shot through his spine and dangerously close to making him come right there. “Yeah…”

Hannibal’s dark eyes gleamed at the look in Will’s eyes, and he answered by slapping Will’s ass again, harder, hips plowing hard into Will’s tight body. “There’s much more to that…”

“Is there?” Will's gasped, a groan ripping from his throat as each slap and thrust spiked his heated pleasure further to the edge.

“So much more-” Hannibal promised, and slapped Will’s ass again, and again, able to feel himself edging closer and closer to the brink as he did.

Will's knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the counter harder, pleasure soaring through his veins, and boiling in the back of his thighs to his  lower back. He moaned hard, coming in droves.

Hannibal watched as Will came. The feeling of Will’s body clutching hard around his cock made Hannibal gasp, and then let out a low, shaky growl as he came inside Will, with an explosive flash of bliss.

Panting, catching his breath, Will moved one hand to his chest, gazing at the ceiling for a long moment and then back into Hannibal’s eyes. “Wow.”

Hannibal dipped his head to kiss Will’s fingertips where they rested on his chest, then looked up, and smiled at Will’s breathless exclamation. “Have you never been spanked before?” Hannibal asked in a silky voice, virtually purring in Will’s ear as he nuzzled him.

Will couldn’t help the laugh that trickled out at the question. “No. It’s… not something I’ve explored with any partners.”

“Pain and pleasure are more closely linked than most people would ever suspect,” Hannibal sighed, and smiled at Will, close up, then kissed his lips again. “I suspected you might enjoy the sting of my hand when you moaned every time I’ve bitten you, or tugged at your hair.”

“How perceptive of you,” Will said, smiling against Hannibal’s lips, breathing returning to normal now as his heart tried to set the same pace.

“I consider myself a considerate lover,” Hannibal whispered, and tugged Will’s curls again, just to make a point, as he kissed him.

“I won’t ask for references,” Will hummed, head tipped back as Hannibal tugged.

“Thank you,” Hannibal whispered and kissed Will again, deeply, happily. “Nor will I of you.”

Will sighed, contently, arms around Hannibal as they shared their quiet moment. “I should let you get back to making dinner.”

“You should,” Hannibal agreed with a soft smile, but kissed Will again, reluctant to let him go.

“I should get some of the meat in the smoker.” Will slid down, in front of Hannibal, and off the counter, and kissed him once again, unable to get enough.

Hannibal sighed, and stared after Will, adoringly. “I should begin dinner, and cleaning up. It’s difficult to be as meticulous as I usually am with such a splendid distraction,” he said, as he began to dress again, and washed his hands under the faucet.

Will grinned at that, and then  leaned over to peck Hannibal’s cheek before gathering his own clothes and wandering off to the bathroom to clean up and change. He returned a few minutes later. “Where’s the meat for the smoker?”

Hannibal, cleaned up and dressed again, opened the refrigerator to reveal two large dishes stacked with meat. “To start, anyhow. A shame we don’t know enough people for a dinner party.”

“We don’t know  _ anyone _ ,” Will said, and took one platter out. “Unless you count the cab driver I use. I don’t know his name.”

“Perhaps, for now, that is best,” Hannibal said as he watched Will carry the meat outside. Their bonfire was still raging, the evidence almost destroyed beyond recognition by now. “I’m sure we’ll find a way to eat well.”

“For a while,” Will said, and set the platter down and stuffed pieces of the meat into the smoker, he’d need to make a baste for it, but he could do that in a bit.

Hannibal guessed that smoking the meat properly would take quite some time, and began to prepare dinner for them in the meantime to fuel their bouts of lovemaking. “When do you expect to know if your bid for the boat was successful?” Hannibal asked, as he sliced onions.

“End of the week, I hope,” Will said, bringing in the empty platter after locking up the smoker.

“Excellent. I have the remains of skulls and bones too distinctly human to risk setting in the refrigerator hidden, but I’d like to dispose of them in the deep ocean, if possible.” Hannibal sauteed the thinly sliced onions, and began to slice a large, red steak, very thinly.

“I’ll check on the bid tomorrow.” Will set the platter in the sink and started to wash it.

“Thank you,” Hannibal said with a smile at Will, and leaned over to press a warm kiss against the side of Will’s scruffy neck, simply because he could. “Where is Vincent?”

“Chewing on his rat,” Will said, nodding out to the yard where the once clean dog was now rolling in dirt again.

Hannibal sighed through his nose, and gave the velvet couch a concerned look, then looked at where the dog was coating himself with as much dirt as possible in a short period. “No rats in the house…”

“Can you trust me, please?” Will asked, giving Hannibal an imploring look. “I’ll bathe him before he comes in and the rat will be disposed of.”

“Thank you,” Hannibal said, and brushed his lips over Will’s as he began to make a marinade for their meat.

Will finished washing the platter, and then dried it, setting it down on the counter for now, not sure how Hannibal wanted the kitchen set up, even now. “I’ll feed him, that should get him to calm down, too, so I can take the rat away.”

Hannibal looked over at Will, “Do you need to cook for him?” he asked, with a raised eyebrow. A pot of rice was already simmering on the stove, half finished.

“I’ll make his food later, I’ll put together some scraps.” It wasn’t ideal, but it would do for now to sate the small animal. Will pulled leftover pulled meat from the other day, and chopped it finely and put it in a bowl. He set it out on the porch, and sure enough Vincent trotted over and left his dead rat.

“Hopefully, with regular feeding, he should realize eating rats is no longer necessary for his survival,” Hannibal mused, and began to brown the meat, which now smelled zesty and fragrant with spices and sauce.

“He will,” Will insisted, and got the hose out again to spray the dog down with once more, when he was finished eating, of course.

Vincent shook himself dry, and put his paws on Will’s legs, begging to be picked up. He’d obviously had a family at some point, and lost them, somehow. He and Will had that in common.    
  
“What breed do you imagine he might be?” Hannibal asked, shifting the pan with an agile snap of his wrist that flipped it’s contents over, perfectly.

Will picked the dog up with the towel and dried him off as he brought him inside and shut the door for now. “Hard to say, he’s pretty mangled up.”

“Small, certainly,” Hannibal said with a look over his shoulder at Will, and the dog that Will held like a baby in a blanket. He could not help but notice a pang in his heart at the thought of Will with a baby, and counted himself relieved that Molly had not provided him with one.

“Part Terrier I would guess,” Will said, the dog licking his chin, and Will making a face, but laughing.

“Hence his fondness for rats,” Hannibal murmured. The kitchen began to smell incredible, as it usually did when Hannibal cooked. “Terriers were employed on the grounds of the castle in which I grew up, not permitted indoors.”

He hesitated, mid-stir of the dish in the pan, then added: “Mischa, however, had other ideas.”

“Did she?” Will asked, fondly, and brought the dog over, held securely in his arms, to peck Hannibal’s cheek.

“Many an evening I would check on her to find a stable dog she’d smuggled in tucked into bed with her,” Hannibal admitted, softly, his gaze distant as he watched the meat cook. “She was delightfully stubborn.”

“Can’t imagine who she takes after,” Will chuckled, touching Hannibal’s back with a free hand.

Hannibal’s distant, somewhat frozen expression warmed at the touch to his back. He turned the heat off for the rice, and looked at Will with soft eyes. “Nor can I,” he chuckled, and touched the side of Will’s waist, then leaned into him.    
  
The dog had brought back memories of Mischa that Hannibal had buried for decades, there they were, pristine and dustless, painfully perfect.

Will would have liked to have met her, but of course he never asked more, despite his ability to imagine things perfectly, bring them to reality in his mind. Will finally set the dried off dog down and hugged Hannibal around his shoulders from behind.

Hannibal touched Will’s hand where it rested against his chest, and allowed himself to lean back against him, for a moment. “She would have liked you, a great deal,” he said, and bit the inside of his cheek as he emptied the rice onto a large serving plate, and began to smooth it into a perfectly round base.

“I’m sure I would have liked her, too,” Will whispered, rubbing Hannibal’s chest, just over his heart.

Hannibal took a deep breath, and let it out, slowly as he stirred the fragrant contents of the pan. “It would have been lovely,” he said, softly, then turned in Will’s arms to look at him. 

Will nuzzled Hannibal’s face, lovingly, and then held him to comfort, rubbing his back. There was nothing left to say but be there for him.

Depending on another person was alien, and frightening for Hannibal. As he’d learned through being stung by the poison of his own designs against Will, he depended on Will. He needed him. Hannibal hugged Will back, and rested his head over Will’s as they shared a calm moment. “I cannot imagine a future without you, Will.”

"You don't have to. I'm not going anywhere,” Will whispered, just listening to Hannibal breathe.

“Nor am I, without you,” Hannibal promised softly, and nuzzled Will’s face. “The last time I left without you was a terrible mistake. Never again.”

Will breathed in slowly at that confession, and smiled wearily. “I really did want you to run. I wanted to find you later and run away too.”

“I wish I had known that at the time,” Hannibal sighed, and brushed his hand over Will’s cheek, then swallowed hard.

“We weren’t on the same page, as much as we thought we were,” Will sighed, leaning into Hannibal’s touch.

“No, we weren’t,” Hannibal sighed, and brushed his lips over the scar on Will’s forehead. “I do not think we could have been together like this until just now. Both of us had to evolve.”

“We had to want and need it,” Will sighed, knowing that Hannibal had always wanted but it was Will who was not as eager to see.

“The want and need had to be mutual, or we would have been together long ago,” Hannibal chuckled, and turned down the heat on the stove, under their bubbling, aromatic dinner, then returned his arm to holding Will.

“That’s true,” Will agreed, resting his head against Hannibal’s, smelling the wafting dinner aroma in the air. “Smells good.”

“Lomo Saltado,” Hannibal announced with a soft smile, and stroked his hand over the lines of muscle in Will’s back. “We’ve had it, once before, but the ginger was artificial.”

“It just wasn’t the ginger you were expecting,” Will said with an agreeing tone.

“Who was it, may I ask?” Hannibal asked, no longer upset about the lie. It was merely part of their long and complex history.

“Randall Tier,” Will answered with a little grin, and shrug of his shoulders.

“Not a ginger at all, in that case,” Hannibal said with a smile, and kissed Will on the cheek before stepping away to plate their food, in a much better mood now.

“Nope.” Will went to put a bowl of water down for the dog, and then slipped his shoes off by the door, barefoot against the wood flooring once again. 

Hannibal brought the plate of food to their small, intimate kitchen table, and set the table around it, managing simple elegance. “Wine?”

“May as well,” Will said with a small smile, brought right back to that one night when they cooked together.

“A light red?” Hannibal asked, as he surveyed their small, but excellent wine collection in a rack that was built into one of the walls.

“You know best,” Will offered, grabbing down two plates and two sets of silverware from a drawer.

Hannibal selected a bottle, and opened it, then set it on the table to allow it to breathe a little, and watched Will. “Sharing a home with you is as fulfilling as I always imagined it would be.”

“Is it?” Will asked, glancing over at Hannibal as he set the table for them both, and then grabbed the cloth napkins from another drawer.

“Yes, aside from your chilled feet on my legs at night,” Hannibal teased, enjoying the moment.

Will grabbed two glasses down and shot Hannibal a look, though a smile edges around his lips and wrinkled lines by his eyes. “It gets hot, I thought you’d enjoy it…”

Hannibal smiled, and pulled out Will’s chair for him. “Quite refreshing. It’s astonishing that anything in this country is as cold as your feet, Will.”

Rolling his eyes, Will sat down and then grasped Hannibal’s hands. “Be happy I don’t get the night sweats anymore.”

“For many reasons, I am,” Hannibal said, honestly, and squeezed Will’s hands, raising one to kiss before he poured a glass of wine for Will, and then one for himself before he took his seat.

Will wouldn’t ask why that was, he simply let it linger as he scooted himself in a little further, and then took the wine in hand, to smell it first.

Hannibal smiled, and did the same before he sipped it, and tried a bit of his dish. The thinly sliced meat had soaked up the zesty marinade quickly, and balanced the spice of the dish perfectly. “You’ll be a connoisseur before you know it, Will.”   
  
“Of wine?” Will chuckled and then took a bite, humming around the morsel in his mouth. He’d drank wine away from Hannibal, but he didn’t feel that being catty now was wise.

“Perhaps of a few things,” Hannibal said with a sly smile over his glass. “Is it difficult to sit?”

A sly narrowing of his sea blue gaze over the wine glass as he sipped it, Will hummed his reply and sifted in his seat. It was a tad uncomfortable, now that he thought about it.

“I would apologize, but I am not sorry, and we are done lying to one another, aren’t we?” Hannibal asked, with a bright gleam in his dark eyes as he watched Will shift in his seat.

“We are,” Will agreed, and set the wine down for another bite of food, and then another. “Just as we agreed upon.”

“In that case, I look forward to making it nearly impossible for you to do anything but stand,” Hannibal smirked, and sipped his wine, again, enjoying himself a great deal.

Will reached under the table to pat Hannibal’s knee, giving it a pat. “I look forward to it as well.”

Hannibal spread his legs at the touch, and sighed happily, leaning his knee into Will’s touch. “Do you?”

“Very much,” Will murmured, eating with his other hand, he slipped his fingers over Hannibal’s knees, up his thigh slowly.

Hannibal moved a little closer as he took a deep, deep breath that made his chest rise beneath his shirt. “Are you trying to distract me, Will?”

“Giving you more thoughts of dessert to come after our dinner,” Will said with a smile, and traced the line of the hem there on Hannibal’s thigh, all the way up, until he snatched his hand back to take a sip of wine.

Hannibal shifted his jaw at Will’s teasing. That touch alone was enough to make him half-hard. “Are you hoping for a more thorough spanking if you provoke me?” Hannibal asked, his voice calm, and his eyes sparkling.

Will’s eyes flitted over Hannibal’s features, drinking in that almost devious look that hid just behind his facade of calm. “Maybe…”

Hannibal stroked his tongue over his lower lip, and sipped his wine in an unhurried manner as he contemplated Will. “I must admit, as sad as I was to realize how keenly I felt your absence when you were incarcerated, the sight of you in handcuffs was the stuff of a few very dark daydreams for months to come. Perhaps that’s what you need, if you cannot control yourself…”

“You want to cuff me?” Will’s eyes spread inky black with impending lust as he swallowed wine from his glass once more, and then licked a drop from his lips.

“Yes.” Hannibal watched the dark spread of pupil across Will’s eyes, and watched his tongue as it skimmed over Will’s lips. “Depriving you of the use of your hands would be a fitting punishment for being unable to control where you put them during dinner…”

Will set his glass down and reached over again with a little grin, sliding long fingers up Hannibal’s slacks, brushing against his growing erection. “And then?”

Hannibal spread his thighs again, welcoming the touch even as he pretended to chide Will for it. “And then I will have to teach you to listen to me, one way … or another.”

“Brutal punishment,” Will stated, fingers running up the zipper, and then dragged the fly down to spring Hannibal loose.

Hannibal’s cock was ready with just a thought, and a few touches from Will. “It seems you are in dire need of it,” he purred, and looked down at what Will had done. “You are wanton…”

“I have years of it pent up for you,” Will replied, canting his head just so, a curl falling out of place, as fingers wrapped around Hannibal’s cock, tugging once.

Hannibal’s dark eyes went half-closed at the feeling, and he caressed Will’s back with one hand as he stored this moment away in his memory palace, and arched his hips. “Years? Did you ever have fantasies about me that disturbed you?” Hannibal asked in a throaty voice, and let Will pleasure him like this, imperiously. Will would be more than repaid for it, soon enough.

“Yes,” Will sighed, and got to his knees, under the table, pushing Hannibal back aways, and then planted himself between his legs. He leaned in and licked the tip of his cock, experimentally. “I dreamed once I tied you to a tree. There was the other time I saw the Wendigo when I was with Margot…”

Hannibal’s jaw dropped when he felt Will’s tongue on his cock, and he groaned softly as he watched Will experiment. “Did you?” Hannibal purred, and stroked his fingers through Will’s curls.

“You were always there,” Will hummed and wrapped his mouth around the tip of Hannibal’s dick, lathing his tongue, trying the things he knew he loved and Hannibal had done to him.

Hannibal twisted his fingers in Will’s hair, slowly, and gasped as Will took him into his mouth. Will’s lips were soft, and his mouth was exquisitely soft and hot at the same time. “That’s good,” Hannibal whispered, approvingly. 

Will stroked in time with his mouth, only going so far as he could, tasting Hannibal’s salty skin, and taking in the musk that was uniquely him. He groaned, unable to believe they’d finally come this far. He dipped his head a little lower, and squeezed Hannibal’s balls in one hand.

“Will-” Hannibal moaned, and caressed the back of Will’s neck with his free hand as he tugged the dark curls with the other. “Harder…”

Will tugged and then slapped Hannibal’s balls this time, sucked him up to the tip, once more, roughly, popping off with slicked, wet sound. “You like that?”

“Yes-” Hannibal hissed, chest heaving as he spread his legs wider, pain blending with the incredible pleasure of Will’s mouth on him. 

Will leaned and bit teasingly at Hannibal’s balls, and then licked all the way back up again, slowly, taking him down to the hilt this time, experimenting his own bearings and thresholds.

“Fuck-” the obscenity slipped from Hannibal’s mouth at that, and his head fell back as Will took him down again, even better this time than before. That only seemed to make Will do it harder, longer, taking his time and swirling his tongue around the tip, licking off any precome there with a little swallow.

Hannibal pulled Will off of him by the back of his hair, and kissed him hard as he made him stand and backed him to the kitchen counter, cock throbbing. “Maddening boy…” He pulled a pair of zip ties from one of the drawers, and deftly cuffed Will’s hands behind his back.

Will bit his bottom lip as he watched Hannibal, never squirming once as he knew exactly what the other man was doing. He checked the strength of the zip ties with a smile. “Won’t even let me finish you off first?”

“I have other plans,” Hannibal purred, and used another zip tie to fasten Will’s bound wrists to the heavy door of the fridge. “But you will finish me off, in the end,” Hannibal said and pulled a knife from a butcher block.

Watching Hannibal, Will eyed the knife incredulously. “Is that right?”

“It is,” Hannibal said, and turned the knife in his hand, then used it to slice Will’s shirt open, in a smooth plunge from Will’s neck to his waist. “Do you trust me, Will?”

“Yes,” Will said, meeting Hannibal’s eyes, not following the way the knife glinted as he snapping buttons off his shirt, that skittered across the floor.

“Astonishing, considering all we’ve been through,” Hannibal murmured, and sliced Will’s shirt at the shoulder, from neck to wrist on one side, and then the other.

The shirt fell to the floor in pieces, Will’s hands still secured to the fridge. He swallowed, watching Hannibal, and though he desperately wanted to flinch, he was determined not to. If Hannibal felt the need to finally kill him, then so be it. “I think we’ve come a long way since then.”

“I think we have,” Hannibal said, and slipped the blade under the waist of Will’s pants, then sliced the button off instead at the last minute. The look in his eyes was predatory, and amused. “What I would have given to have seen you in your police uniform…”

Will let go of shaky breath that turned into a laugh and he shook his head. “You have a uniform kink.”

“I imagine it suited you very, very well,” Hannibal murmured, as he hooked the tip of the knife into the tab of Will’s fly zipper, and pulled it down, very, very slowly, watching as it opened with satisfaction. “Uniforms are a means of establishing distance, a very deliberate signal that it’s occupant is not to be touched, not to be distracted or approached. A man in uniform is, at least in theory, supposed to be above corruption. I suppose I take them as a  _ personal  _ challenge … with the right pair of soulful eyes, and a mouth to kill for,” Hannibal said, looking into Will’s eyes as he tossed the knife lightly onto the counter.

“I'm sure I could find something online,” Will  suggested, licking his lips as he watched Hannibal's every move as he freed him of his pants.

“That would be … intriguing,” Hannibal said with a promising look in his eyes as he let Will’s pants fall open, and then peeled them down Will’s ass, and thighs, letting them pool around his ankles without touching them. He gazed at Will’s erection that tented his boxers, and ran one fingertip over the pool of moisture in the fabric over the tip of Will’s cock. “All this, just from having your mouth on me?”

“And what you’re doing now, what you said earlier about… punishment,” Will whispered roughly, hips lifting against Hannibal’s finger.

“Punishment can take on many different forms, Will,” Hannibal whispered, one fingertip under Will’s chin, the other teasing the tip of his desperately hard cock through the thin boxers. “A sting of a slapped cheek is one sort of punishment, teasing to the point of near orgasm followed by denial is another…”

“You wouldn’t,” Will said, eyeing Hannibal, though he could tell by the predatory look in his eyes he meant business.

Hannibal’s eyes were glowing darkly, like coals as he gave a little tug at Will’s cock, then held it, possessively, and brought his face close to Will’s, but didn’t kiss him. “Wouldn’t I? That’s one way to teach you control…”

Will tugged on his restraints, eyeing Hannibal as pleasure spiked through him at just the tug. It was… unfair, at least for now. “Rude, Hannibal.”

“Yet, you seem to enjoy it, don’t you?” Hannibal asked, as he peeled Will’s boxers down, just enough to expose his cock and ass, and let them drop the rest of the way, then admired Will.

“I don’t know yet,” Will said, not sure if playing a game like this was a wise one, but there was nothing to lose here. He spread his legs a little wider.

Hannibal wrapped his hand around Will’s cock again, and began to stroke it, slowly, watching the expressions on his face as he pumped and squeezed. “Parts of you seem quite certain…”

“Parts of me are also sure that once you tease and never allow me to come, they aren’t going to like it,” Will whispered, panting out a little just at the thought of Hannibal leaving him with  nothing.

“Perhaps if you ask nicely…” Hannibal whispered back, and dropped to his knees with a sly look in his eyes, then sucked only the tip of Will’s sensitive cock while he rubbed one palm over his bare ass, and gave it a light slap.

“With a cherry on top?” Will asked, just as sly, controlling himself from pushing his hips into Hannibal’s mouth in himself.

At the mention of the word cherry, Hannibal swirled his tongue around the red, swollen head of Will’s cock, slowly, then pulled off, and fondled Will’s balls, then gave them a slap. “Where did you learn that?”

“Learn what?” Will groaned, toes curling into the floor as pain spiked but turned blissfully to pleasure.

“That slapping a man’s testicles elicits just the right sort of pain?” Hannibal purred, and tugged on them, roughly. “Did you do it to yourself?”

“What? No…” Will grunted, feet spreading further, just a little bit.

“A shame, I’d imagined you touching yourself to the thought of me, only to punish yourself for it … and enjoy the punishment,” Hannibal purred, and dragged his nails over the delicate skin of Will’s shaft before he sucked him again, deeper this time, sucking halfway down his throbbing shaft.

Will had, of course, once or twice, long before he married, not long after Hannibal was captured, and during the times where Will was building his boat, recovering. “Is fantasizing about you means for punishment?”

Hannibal groaned, and took Will’s cock down his throat, seemingly without gag reflex. He pulled Will in with two hands on his perfect ass, and nuzzled his nose in Will’s dark curls around the base of his cock, holding himself there with a swimmer’s ability to hold his breath.

“Jesus-” Will gasped, fingers grasping into his own palms, desperate to touch, but too desperate to prove he didn’t need to. “Hannibal…”

Hannibal pulled off, and sucked, hollowing his cheeks, then deep-throated Will again, pressing his cock into the furnace-heat of his throat for a long moment, consuming Will as deeply and intimately as was physically possible without killing or maiming him, then pulled off and gave Will’s ass a sounding, hard slap that left the skin throbbing. 

Will hissed, his cock leaking more as Hannibal did that, proving that Hannibal was right, Will enjoyed it more than he let on. His head lolled back against the fridge, biting his lip to hold onto a groan.

Hannibal licked the new leak off, and stood, picking up the knife again to cut Will free from the fridge door, but left his hands bound behind his back. Hannibal stripped slowly, out of reach, and sat in his chair from earlier, and patted his own thigh. “Come here, Will. Lay over my legs.”

Panting, chest heaving, Will swallowed and walked over to Hannibal, gauging his lap for a moment before he managed to lean over Hannibal’s thighs,  ass pert to the air, cock trapped. “This?”

Hannibal watched as Will struggled, naked, bound, and hard, to lay himself in his lap. He’d always enjoyed watching Will struggle, in one way, or another. “Yes, just so,” Hannibal said, praising Will for a moment before he stroked one hand over Will’s ass, gently, admiring it’s shape and smoothness.    
  
Hannibal shifted his legs, one thigh against the underside of Will’s cock, just enough sensation to tempt Will to rub against the fabric of Hannibal’s trousers. “For years, I managed to control my lust around you, now you must control your lust around me, no matter what I do, Will, you are not allowed to rub against me, to pleasure yourself in any way until I give you permission. Am I understood?” Hannibal asked, still caressing Will’s ass, fingers trailing into the deep cleft.

Hands still tied tight behind him, Will nodded, fingers digging into palms. His breath was even for now, cock seeping against Hannibal's thigh. “Understood,  _ Doctor _ .”

Hannibal caressed Will’s back, from the base of his skull, down his spine, to his ass. He drew his hand back, and slapped Will’s ass, sharply and neatly, then watched the pink mark begin to glow on his flesh. “Your skin holds a beautiful flush, Will…” Hannibal spanked Will again, on the same spot.

Holding back a curse, Will held his breath, head dropping down, eyes squeezed shut as the pain cascaded into beautiful pleasure. He only made a little noise, body lurching just a little.

“Holding your breath is a bad habit, Will,” Hannibal chided, and slapped his ass again, then slapped his balls from behind where they rested over the fabric of his dress pants.

Will let it out with a gasp, groaning through the sensation as it left him feeling prickly and even more turned on, heat rising through his thighs and lower back. His bound fingers splayed and then curled in again against his palm.

“Are you struggling, Will?” Hannibal asked, and rubbed the tip of his finger over Will’s pucker, massaging the nerves before he slapped the flesh of his ass again, trading one intensity for another.

Will bit his lip again, hard enough to taste copper. He groaned. “A little.”

Hannibal shifted his thigh against Will’s cock, a mere flex of the muscle under Hannibal’s linen pant leg, but it was enough to caress the sensitive bundle of nerves and flesh.

“Dammit, Hannibal…” Will sighed, fingers stretching out once more in the air behind his back, eyes closed.

Hannibal touched Will’s struggling fingers, and rolled Will’s balls in his other hand. “Vulgarity is so unbecoming,” he sighed, and gave Will’s reddened ass another sharp slap, snapping his wrist this time as he struck Will, thigh flexing again against Will’s neglected cock.

Ragged breathing escaped Will, trying to hold it together and not come from that alone. He writhed, but didn’t rub against Hannibal. “Please, Hannibal…”

“Please what?” Hannibal asked, in a silky voice as he scraped his nails over the welts on Will’s ass, his own cock hard, throbbing in his dress pants like the pulse in his neck. It was hard to believe this wasn’t a dream.

Will turned his head to look up at Hannibal, blue eyes piercing bright against his redden, flushed skin. “Please let me come... or fuck me.”

Hannibal met Will’s eyes, his own just as dark as Will’s were bright. They shared a moment of eye contact, and then Hannibal moved Will, as though he weighed nothing. Will was on his feet, and Hannibal kissed him hard as he backed him to the table, then pushed him over it, on his stomach. “You’ve been so good, I think I’ll do both,” Hannibal murmured in Will’s ear as he grabbed a small bottle of olive oil from the side of the table. A moment later, Hannibal pressed his cock inside Will, slick and hot, palpably throbbing as he pushed past Will’s tight ring of muscle with a wordless moan.

Will’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as his body finally started to feel some relief, some kind of tension being let go, and yet built up all at once. His toes curled into the floor, thighs spread, and his fingers caressing Hannibal’s chest and stomach when he leaned in far enough. “Yes-”

Hannibal did not begin gently. He drove his cock deep into Will, impaling him with it as he grabbed Will’s hips with both hands and used them to yank the flushed brunet back over himself with every stroke. “Love is not always tender,” he rasped, nails digging into Will’s flesh.

“Never has been with you-” Will managed to pant out between ragged breaths, arching back the best he could, but in his position all he could was let Hannibal take him, but happily so.

Hannibal moaned his agreement, and fucked Will harder, sweat rolling down the back of his neck as he did. “Will” he gasped, his cock slamming inside Will to it’s hilt, plates falling off of the table, breaking.

Their dinner was long forgotten anyway, but Vincent found it his place to sweep in and eat what was left off the floor as the table shook around him, unfazed by the whole thing.

Will groaned louder, his cock sliding against the smooth table just  _ right _ , every last inch of him on fire now, and he couldn’t hold it back any longer. He started to come, in droves, waves of it crashing over him and pulsing in his core and through his loins, hotly.

With a final clutch of his hands, Hannibal came with Will, gasping broken words in Lithuanian as he saw bright light behind closed eyelids and felt ecstasy wash through his body, enough to make every muscle clench and tremble before they finally relaxed. 

Will relaxed, the best he could, against the table, having soiled it completely with his own come and sweat. He started to chuckle, letting his head rest to the side, looking at Hannibal the best he could like this.

Hannibal picked up a knife from the table, and cut Will’s wrists free, then leaned down to kiss the spot between his shoulderblades. “Is something funny?” Hannibal asked, with a soft smile.

“No, I am… in disbelief of how far we’ve come, sometimes,” Will explained, stretching his arms, and then stood, turning to sit on the table, and wrap his arms around Hannibal’s waist.

“From your refusal to so much as make eye contact with me to … this,” Hannibal said, with a smile in his voice, and held Will with both arms, nuzzling his face as they caught their breath.

“Now I find it hard to look away,” Will said, kissing Hannibal once.

Hannibal kissed Will back, slowly, then rested their foreheads together, eyes closed as he enjoyed the moment. “I hope that never changes.”

“It won’t, not again, not ever,” Will promised, breathing easily now.

Hannibal nuzzled Will’s sweaty face, and opened his eyes to look at Will. He was gentle now, tender and fond. “Is that a promise?”

“Cross my heart,” Will whispered, sealing it with a kiss.

Hannibal kissed Will back, one hand over Will’s heart, letting it beat against his palm as their mouths fit against one another’s, perfectly. “I missed you, Will, every day,” Hannibal confessed, against Will’s well-kissed lips.

“For three years?” Will asked, softly, wanting to hear if Hannibal missed him even half as much as Will had.

Hannibal’s eyes crinkled slightly at the edges, and he touched the side of Will’s scruffy face, staring at him as he remembered. “Like a dog dropped off at a shelter, yes. I waited for you to come for me … and then, you did.”

“Back home,” Will sighed, wrapping his arms around Hannibal’s shoulders now, and then his legs around his hips. “Where you belong.”

“In that case, I was homesick,” Hannibal whispered, and caressed the small of Will’s back as they whispered to each other in their kitchen, both of them ignoring the broken dishes on the floor, and the remains of supper that Vincent took the liberty of eating before he napped near the back door.

“You don’t have to be anymore.” Will rested their heads together, letting them share the moment, in silence, save for their breaths.

“I was home again the moment you arranged for a chance for my escape,” Hannibal said, and pulled Will off of the table, then carried him to the sofa and laid down with him.

“Did you know?” Will asked, curiously, lounging on the sofa with Hannibal.

“Yes,” Hannibal said, his eyes lightening as he remembered the event. “I knew that either we would escape together, or that you would kill me. Either way , I was ready.”

“One in the same?” Will asked, smiling a little, nosing against Hannibal's jaw in unabashed adoration, no longer hiding what he felt.

“I would have been satisfied to end my life with you, whether we have a short life together, or a long life together,” Hannibal whispered.

“I thought suicide was the enemy?” Will whispered back, curling himself around Hannibal.

“Suicide is the enemy, but I’d rather die with you, or even because of you, than by any other means,” Hannibal sighed, and rubbed Will’s back.

“Kill each other or live together,” Will chuckled and dipped his head to kiss Hannibal's jaw.

“After having lived with you, I’m glad that we chose the latter,” Hannibal murmured, as he held Will. He did not intend to be parted from Will, never again, until death parted them.

“Me, too,” Will said, quietly, and kissed Hannibal again, slowly, letting their want and need for this to work settle between them.


	5. Chapter 5

Two days later, the doorbell rang for the first time since Will and Hannibal had taken up residence in the mansion. Hannibal stopped cooking for a moment, and washed his hands before he walked to the door, and opened it as he dried his hands. “Can I help you?” he asked in Spanish.    
  
Three police officers stood at the door, badges in hand, and looked at Hannibal, skeptically, before they began to speak in Spanish with him, and showed him a photo of a man that Hannibal held for a moment and looked at before he shook his head and handed it back with a soft shrug. 

The officers nodded, and spoke a little longer with Hannibal before saying goodbye. Hannibal closed the door, his friendly demeanor disappearing as he turned on his heel and headed through the kitchen to find Will in the back yard.

Will was just coming back from docking their new boat, which he’d won the bid on. He looked over at Hannibal, sweat on his brow, which were raised at him under sunglasses. “Hannibal?”

Hannibal stepped onto the dock, gracefully. “That was the police at the door,” he said, casually, once he was close to Will, one hand against Will’s arm.

“Police?” Will asked, tying the rope of the boat to the dock so it wouldn’t go anywhere, though it was anchored.

“They are canvassing the island, searching for a disappeared officer. He was working undercover with a drug cartel when he vanished,” Hannibal said, with a sigh and a frown. “He looked very familiar.”

Will raised a brow at that, eyes narrowed. “Then he’s dead. Nothing to worry about, unless they come looking for… evidence. “ Will looked at the boat. “We can safely get rid of the rest now.”

“That may be wise, but it’s likely we’re being watched. One of the officers mentioned that an eyewitness placed the missing officer near our property when he was seen last,” Hannibal said, calmly, but under his breath. “Our hiding anything now will raise even more suspicion. Without my usual resources for disposal, there was only so much I could make of the bones, I’ve hidden them, for now.”

“For now? But for how long?” Will mused, mostly to himself, shifting on his feet with a sigh. “No one else can go missing either.”

“We have two options: remain here, remain calm, hope they lose the scent and do not probe any more deeply into where we’ve come from, or we can leave immediately and cut our losses, so to speak.”

Will swallowed, looking around everything they had, all the things they had laid groundwork into. “The worst that could happen is we’d have to run either way, isn’t it?”

“The only variable is how closely we are pursued,” Hannibal agreed, with a nod, and looked back at the house. He’d only now just begun to have it as he liked it, leaving now would mean leaving all of their first home’s potential, all of it’s beauty. 

Vincent barked at them and padded around their feet, and then sat down, staring up at them. Will sighed, arms folded over his chest. “I guess we keep an ear to the ground.”

“So we shall,” Hannibal said, as he leaned in to kiss Will’s jaw, calmly, and sweetly. “Did you already catch anything?” he asked, looking at the boat.

“Not yet, haven’t put any lines to good use,” Will smiled, arm around Hannibal’s shoulders as he walked them back toward their house.

“It’s a solid looking vessel,” Hannibal said with a little smile. “Larger, or smaller than what you used to come to Italy?”

“Little larger, actually,” Will said, looking back at the boat, and then at Hannibal with a smile. “How’d you know?”

“I thought often of the vessel you constructed, and in which you sailed to me,” Hannibal said with a warm smile at Will, obviously deeply touched by the act.

“And yet, we still did not get our happy ending,” Will sighed, wondering if things had been different, what might have happened.

“I think what we have now is quite the happy ending, even if it was delayed by a few years,” Hannibal said with a little smirk, and opened the kitchen door for Will.

Will leaned and kissed Hannibal’s cheek before stepping in. Vincent wiped his paws on the mat there, as trained now to do, and then trotted in after them. “I agree. Hate to lose this place.”

“It’s becoming home,” Hannibal agreed as he closed the door after them, and took a treat from the jar on the counter for Vincent, then offered it to him as a reward.

Vincent got up on his hind legs to get the treat, and then took it away to eat it up. Will smiled at the dog, and  squeezed Hannibal around the waist. “You’re soft on him.”

“The dog? Not at all,” Hannibal scoffed, and watched Vincent take his treat to his bed to eat it. “But it is nice that he enjoys his little biscuits, and I don’t object to his wiping his paws,” Hannibal chuckled. 

“You’re welcome,” Will said with a kiss to Hannibal’s high cheekbone and then he let go completely, and went to get a drink of filtered water from the fridge.

“That was for my benefit?” Hannibal asked, as he watched Will. He loved their life here, and hoped the looming shadow of the police would pass so long as they saw nothing to provoke them.

“You asked that he be trained, he is,” Will offered, and drank from the cool glass of water, parched from the Cuban sun.

The sun left both of them tanned, but even though he spent more time in the house, Hannibal was bronzed, deeply, and his hair was bleaching lighter and lighter as it grew. He leaned in and kissed Will’s lips as he passed him, readying dinner slowly. They were well into their supply of meat, now, and the slabs that Will had smoked were a joy to cook with. “Now if only I could train you to wipe  _ your _ paws…”

Will’s gaze on Hannibal narrowed slightly, and he wrapped his arm around the doctor’s waist, chin on his shoulder as he held the glass in his other hand. He rubbed his hand over Hannibal’ stomach to his chest. “Are they dirty?”

Hannibal looked at Will’s hand with a little smile, and laid his own over it, then nodded at the sand tracked all over Hannibal’s polished floor. “The hazards of living with a fisherman…”

“I’ll clean it up,” Will whispered, and kissed Hannibal’s neck, and then let go. He drank his water and set his cup in the sink.

“Thank you, Will,” Hannibal whispered back, and felt as though he could burst from domestic bliss when Will kissed his neck. He could still feel the touch of Will’s hand on his chest, ghostly and warm.

Will got a broom and the dustpan from the closet, and began to sweep up while humming a Johnny Cash song under his breath. Once it was swept, he tossed it into the garbage and set everything back, and went into the other room.

Hannibal cooked, quietly and happily, cleaning as he went. Half an hour later, he looked for Will, a fork in hand, balanced over a saucer. “Will?”

The brunet walked back into the kitchen, slightly rumpled looking, and wandered back over. “Hm?” 

“Taste,” Hannibal said, and offered Will a bite of meat, coated in sauce. 

Will leaned in and sucked the meat off the spoon, lips wiping the metal clean, and then hummed as he chewed and swallowed. “That’s good.”

“Lechon Asado,” Hannibal said with a smile, and looked Will over. “Were you sleeping?”

“Nappin’,” Will corrected, licking his lips for the remainder of the taste, and gazed at Hannibal with hazy, sleepy blue eyes.

“Any dreams?” Hannibal asked, as he thumbed the hollow of Will’s cheek, then returned to the stove to cook, again.

“Not really, too quick,” Will yawned, and went to get some more water, the sun having made him particularly parched.

“Do you ever dream of your stag?” Hannibal asked, curiously, and watched Will’s throat flex as he swallowed.

“Now and then. Less so now that we’re here,” Will murmured around his glass.

“Is he content?” Hannibal asked, and strained pasta into a colander in the sink, steam rising around him like a cloud.

“Mhm,” Will hummed and poured more water for himself from the fridge and then rested his hip against the counter near Hannibal.

Hannibal added the drained pasta to a pan of sauce, and mixed them together, gently. “I think your ravenstag is us,” Hannibal mused. “A way for your struggling mind to represent our growing relationship when you were intent on denying it. Part raven, part stag, two creatures fused into one.”

“Which are you?” Will asked the doctor, ever curious how his mind worked, just as Hannibal was about Will’s.

“I’m curious to know which you think I am,” Hannibal said, honestly, and smiled at Will over his shoulder as he worked. 

“The Raven,” Will said with some thought.

“Why is that?” Hannibal asked, a smile in his dark eyes as he stirred the sauce, and then opened the oven to check on the roast.

“They are highly intelligent, for one,” Will said with a  little smile. “Underestimated.” Will swallowed another gulp of water and set his glass down. “Some say that ravens represent our shadow selves, and in that, if we accept that part of ourselves, with that we create a balance, and communication within us. I find that very fitting of you, Hannibal.”

“Have you been reading Jung?” Hannibal asked, with a smile over his shoulder and turned away from the stove to walk to Will, drawn to him.

“I’ve read a lot of things,” Will answered, hands in his pockets for now, watching Hannibal come to him, as they always were, drawn like magnets.

“I’m aware that you have,” Hannibal chuckled, and rested a hand on Will’s chest. “That would make you the stag: a creature of the woods, gentle, but formidable in combat, prone to shying away from human contact,” Hannibal said, and tucked some of Will’s growing, sun-lightened curls behind Will’s ear.

Will wrapped his hand around Hannibal’s waist, and tugged him close, blue gaze roving over his sun-kissed features. “Makes sense…”

“I used to feed stags in Lithuania, I thought they were beautiful,” Hannibal chuckled, remembering that. He’d been a small boy, long before Mischa was born. “I would bring them bits of bread and meat, I soon learned they don’t favor meat.”

“No?” Will asked, hand sliding up Hannibal’s back, just between his shoulder blades, pinning their bodies together.

“Well, not most of them,” Hannibal chuckled, and leaned in to kiss Will, deeply. 

Will hummed against Hannibal’s mouth, kissing him back just as deeply, slowly, savoring each moment their lips met and brushed, more than aware now that things could change rapidly with the impending investigation looming over them.

Hannibal pulled Will closer, hands against the small of his back, when the doorbell rang. Vincent barked at the sound, and hurried to the door to investigate.

Will swallowed, breathing for a moment, and then sighed. He pulled away and went to answer the door this time.

Hannibal listened, closely, as the door opened, knife in hand as he stayed just beyond the corner that hid him from view. 

A Cuban man in a suit, with a badge, older than the officers who came before, looked at Will with narrowed eyes. “Are you the owner of this house?” he asked, point-blank, in Spanish.

Will nodded his head, picking up a few bits of Spanish here and there. Though he wasn’t the one the purchased the house, he felt he and Hannibal owned it equally.

The man tilted his head at Will, “Do you speak English, senor?”

“Yes,” Will answered, calmly, foot behind the door propping it open, hands in his pocket. “Can I help you?”

“I am Captain Hector San Juan,” he said, and nodded to his badge. “Some of my men were here earlier, looking for a missing officer. Can I come in?”

Will nodded and pushed the door further open with his foot. “Of course. I think they talked to my husband before. Please, come in.”

“I see,” the Captain said, and stepped in, past Vincent, whom he looked at with a little amusement. “I think I’ve seen him before, on the street?” Vincent was distinctive looking, missing half an ear and one leg. 

Will chuckled, closing the door behind them. “Yes. I like strays. He kept following me home.” Will paused. “Can I offer you some coffee or water?”

“Coffee, please,” the Captain said, as he looked around the home. “This is a beautiful old place, when did you and your … husband purchase?”

“Luciano purchased it some time ago. It was a surprise, for our wedding. I’ll get him and your coffee, one moment,” Will said, stepping into the kitchen. He grabbed a mug down and looked over at Hannibal. “The Police Captain is here, with questions.”

Hannibal looked up from where he was checking on the roast. His hair was no longer slicked back, it was softer and in his face, and he wore a simple pair of glasses that he’d never shown Will before, which made him look much more bookish, but no less handsome. “I see, please, come in. Any news about your officer?” Hannibal asked, as he gestured to the coffee maker where it sat on the stove.   
  
The chief nodded that he’d like some, and Hannibal set about, working, while Will poured the coffee. He gave the mug to the chief.

“Sugar? Cream?” Will asked, gesturing to the table where the sugar sat if the man wanted.

“I’ll manage, thank you,” the Captain said, and took the cup from Will, then added some sugar. “I’m afraid no news, so I’ve come back to do secondary interviews.” He produced a photo from his inside jacket, and handed it to Will. “This is our missing officer. He was undercover, we fear foul play. Have you seen or heard anything unusual? Do you recognize his face?” The Captain asked as Hannibal began to set the table.   
  
Hannibal’s posture was different, much softer, less of his usual penetrating stare as he worked to make the table perfect. The Captain took a deep breath of the air, and sighed. “I am sorry, that is … a wonderful smell. Is this your cooking?”   
  
“Yes, while we’re here, I’m trying my best to learn from Cuban cuisine. I’m a chef,” he said, modestly, with a little shrug. “I have Lechon Asado in the oven right now, I’ve never tried it before, hoping for the best…”

Will took the picture and shook his head. “We head to the market every other day or so. Might have seen him in passing, but I can’t say I’ve talked to him. We keep to ourselves mostly,” Will explained and Vincent barked up at him. “Well, except for the dogs.”

Hannibal whistled and tossed Vincent a treat, which he caught in his mouth, and the Captain could not help but chuckle at that. “When did you arrive in Cuba?” he asked Will, and tilted his head, determined to stay on task despite how welcoming and friendly the couple were, and the delicious smell of what the oven held.

Will folded his arms over his chest, thoughtfully, looking at Hannibal, “Luciano, it’s been what? A few months now?” He turned to the chief again. “The days have slipped by rather quickly since we arrived…”   
  
“Yes, we arrived back when the sour oranges were just coming into season, about two months or so,” he laughed, “I learned the difference between a regular orange and a sour orange very quickly.” Hannibal diced a tomato, expertly, and the Chief watched.    
  
“Do you have your passpor-”   
Hannibal nicked his finger with a little gasp, looked at the drop of blood, and hit the floor, like a bag of sand, unconscious. Will was quick to get to Hannibal’s side, and gently lifting him by the shoulders, resting them against his lap as he sat there, and checked the cut. 

He looked up at the chief. “Very squeamish, the sight of the blood gets to him.” Will pet down Hannibal’s hair gently, well aware he was just fine.

The chief hurried to get a cloth, and then a glass of water, and ran the cloth under cool tap water, then handed it to Miguel. “This under his neck, and have him sip when he wakes up,” the chief chuckled, then found a towel to wrap around Luciano’s finger, and laughed softly. “It’s already stopped bleeding. My wife is the same way, one drop and -” he mimed someone dropping to the floor. “He’s a chef? Is he not with knives all the time?”

Will put the cloth under Hannibal’s neck, and chuckled, as if this happened often. “He is, but not by profession, as you can see why. Can’t run a restaurant if you spend half the time on the ground,” Will said, teasingly.

Hannibal took a deeper breath and started to stir, then opened his eyes, confused, and looked up at Will. “Again?” he sighed, groggy.

Will hummed, and offered the water to his husband as he helped him sit up slowly. “Again.”

“Slow, slow,” the Captain cautioned, and brought Hannibal a small cup of coffee, then offered him a tablet from inside his coat pocket. “My wife has fainting spells, this will help, your head will ache after,” he said, and Hannibal took both, gratefully.

“Thank you. I’m so sorry. It’s so embarrassing,” he said, trying to get up.

Will got to his feet first and helped Hannibal up, and to a chair instead. “Steady, not too fast.”

“The roast has to come out-” Hannibal protested, looking at the stove, then his watch, blinking slowly as he tried to wake up a little more. “It’s going to burn, Miguel.”

“I’ll get the roast,” Will said, kissing Hannibal’s cheek, and made sure he was seated up against the chair. Will walked to the stove and grabbed two pot holders, and tugged the roast from the oven and set it on the stove.

“Thank you,” Hannibal sighed, and nodded to the captain as he took the pill he gave him with the coffee.  “Will you stay for dinner? It’s the least we can do, and we have enough, obviously-”

The Captain hesitated, but looked at the roast, “If you’re sure, I cannot resist. It smells too good.”   
  
“Let me finish setting the table,” Hannibal nodded, and petted Vincent before he rose slowly to wash his now bloodless hands, then started to set the table for three.    
  
“Where did you two meet?” the Captain asked, politely, as he watched the couple.

Will helped Hannibal slowly, and then set out cups for water and glasses for wine. “I was a fisherman on a boat, and he worked at a local grocer, and would come to buy the fish I caught. Friends for the most part, to start.”

Hannibal chuckled as he set the table, and looked back at Will. “I purchased a lot more fish than we really needed in the first few weeks, then I finally summoned the courage to ask Miguel if I could cook for him, sometime. I was still not sure if he’d say yes, but I asked…”

“And of course I said yes,” Will said, rolling his eyes at Hannibal. “Inseparable since.”

“Where were you married?” The Captain asked, curiously. Hannibal began to bring rice, beans, and beautifully arranged greens to the table, and gestured for the Captain to take his seat.    
  
“France,” Hannibal answered with a smile.

“He loves French food,” Will said with a smile, seating himself, but kept a watchful eye on his husband.

The Captain took his seat and Hannibal nodded for his ‘husband’ to pick out a wine. “Miguel, would you like to choose a wine?” He asked, over his shoulder as he began to carve the roast, slowly, then offered the Chief the first slice with a heartfelt smile in his eyes, behind the thin-rimmed glasses. “My husband gave the meat a light smoking before it was roasted, we’re experimenting a little, but I hope it’s passable,” he said.

“It looks more than passable, thank you very much,” the chief said, and set the notebook he carried and his phone to the side, on a polished storage bench. “If you don’t mind my asking, how does a fisherman and a chef manage a mansion in Cuba? Do you have relatives on the island?”   
  
Will went to gather a wine, a placed the bottle on the table before sitting again. “My family comes from money.  We’re of Scottish descent, been in the family for a while. I just love fishing,” Will explained.”   
  
“I had no idea,” Hannibal laughed, and served Will a slice of the roast, then himself, and left them to dish their own side dishes as they liked. “I was ready to marry a poor fisherman, the money was a surprise, but I can understand being skeptical, there are some terrible people out there, frightening, really,” he sighed, and then looked at the Captain, watching him chew and swallow. “How is the roast?”   
  
The Captain hummed as he took his first bite, “This is incredible. It’s almost as my Abuela used to make, but a little different, still very, very good.”   
  
Hannibal shared a smile with Will. “That must be the smoking we gave it.” He remembered Will “smoking” the still living meat with the knife as it plunged deep into the fleeing man’s throat. It had been beautiful.

Will smiled as he dug into his meal, and chewed slowly. “I built the smoker myself. I’m glad it’s come to good use.”

“It’s very, very good. I would ask for the recipe, but my wife would take offense,” the Captain laughed, and shook his head, then accepted a glass of wine as Hannibal stood to pour for them all. “She is a beautiful woman, the love of my life, but … not so much of a cook.”

Will chuckled, covered his mouth with one hand as he chewed. “We won’t tell her you said so.”

“Thank you,” the Captain laughed, and continued to eat, as though famished. “So, you are Scottish? You don’t have the accent,” the Captain said, conversationally, to Will.

“My family is, not me,” Will said, shaking his head. “They named me with a Spanish descent, because they wanted me to be different,” Will explained.

“So you are from …” The Captain said, trying to place Will’s accent, and not guess that he was American.   
  
“Canadian,” Hannibal interjected as he lifted his wine glass. “He’s very polite.”

Will smiled at that and ate a bit more, and then sipped the wine. “My parents are very different. Such are Canadians.”

Hannibal chuckled, and let his hair fall in his face, softening his expression as he poured his husband more wine. “Very charming people,” he said, “they were at our wedding. My parents are … not quite as open-minded,” he shrugged.

“A shame. Is that why you do not wear your rings?” the Captain asked, inquisitively.

Will chuckled a bit more at that. “Well, we hadn’t found the right rings yet. We wanted something special, nothing…  _ generic _ .”

“It will take some time to find something, but we know it’s not legal here, and wanted to be careful,” Hannibal said, with a touch to Will’s arm and a soft smile before he took another bite of the roast.

Will smiled carefully at Hannibal and then touched his knee. “True. We wanted to be careful where we settled.” 

“How long do you plan to stay in Cuba?” the Captain asked.   
  
Hannibal looked at Will, eyebrows raised, “from the way Miguel has taken to the fishing here, likely until we are forcibly removed,” he chuckled.

“I can't complain,” Will smiled, and forked another bite into his mouth. “Would be a shame to leave.”

“It’s a beautiful country, not without it’s problems,” the Captain admitted, and took another bite, then chewed and swallowed, “but we do what we can.”

“We’ll enjoy our time here. It seems peaceful, aside from the reason for your visit,” Hannibal said, with a spread of one hand, and offered the Captain another slice of roast, which he accepted. “I have faith that you’ll find your missing officer soon.”

Will nodded his agreement with that, and sipped his wine with a look at Hannibal as the Captain ate his missing officer.

“I hope so, there is the chance that he’s left for Florida,” the Captain sighed, and sipped his wine.   
  
“Does that happen often?” Hannibal asked, incredulously.   
  
“Yes, all the time,” the Captain said with a shake of his head. “People would rather flee than stay and try to make our problems better. It’s a shame.”

“That is a shame,” Will agreed, taking another sip before returning to his meal. “He doesn’t have any family he might be leaving behind?”

“None, that’s why we chose him for the undercover work,” the Captain said, and took another bite of the roast. “It’s likely we may never know where he is.”   
  
Hannibal nodded sympathetically, and took another slice of the roast for himself, then offered one to Will with a barely perceptible smile. “Quite possible. Another slice, Miguel?”

Will nodded, and passed his plate for the offered bit, and then set it down again. “Thank you,” he said, taking into his slice with his fork. “Safe to say then he just might have felt in over his head?”

“Very possible,” the Captain sighed, “or the cartel life offered too much he could not turn down and he’s gone off the radar to make it his new life, period.”    
  
Vincent jumped up, onto the small chest upon which the Captain had placed his phone and notebook, and began digging at the lid of it, wagging. The Captain reached over to pet the little dog. “He wants in here…”   
  
“I’ve put his extra treats in there, some bones for a rainy day. He’s always after them, but we’re trying to teach him manners,” Hannibal said, casually.

“I’ll get him,” Will said, standing smoothly to get the dog, picking him up. “Dinner time for him anyway.” Will set him by the door and put his food bowl down, and then pulled the extras from the fridge and filled it. Vincent happily went at it, eating.

The Captain looked over as Vincent was fed. “He’s very well fed. If you like strays, we have an island of them…” He finished off his food with a sigh, and sipped his wine.

Will chuckled and sat back at the table. “I’m afraid my husband might not enjoy another dog, let alone another stray.”

“If he’s as easy to live with as Vincent, I might not object to one more,” Hannibal said, reluctantly, and finished his dinner.

Will’s eyes lit up at that, and then leaned over to kiss Hannibal’s cheek. “I will hold you to that.”

“You have a witness who can throw me into jail if I don’t allow it, now,” Hannibal chuckled, at which the Captain laughed. 

“It would take a little more than that after this meal,” the Captain said, and Hannibal rose to collect their plates. “I really should get back…”

Will got up to help Hannibal, and looked at the Captain. “There is dessert…”

“I would love some, but it’s time I continued with the search. Thank you for dinner,” the Captain said as he stood, and took his things off of the wooden chest, and shook Hannibal’s, then Will’s hands. “I’m sure I’ll see you around the island from time to time.”

“I’m sure,” Hannibal nodded, and walked the Captain to the door, with his newly adopted, almost shy demeanor, and waved at their dinner guest before he closed the door after them. He walked back into the kitchen, hands on his hips, grinning at Will. “Husband?”

“Husband,” Will said, washing dishes at the sink. He smiled over his shoulder.

Hannibal walked over to Will, glasses still on, hair still worn much more softly than usual, and hugged Will from behind. “I very nearly dropped the roast when I heard you say that, at the door.” Hannibal pressed his lips against the side of Will’s throat, over his pulse.

Will chuckled, leaning back into Hannibal. “How else did you want me to explain us?”

“No other way at all, I have no complaint,” Hannibal whispered, and kept his hand over Will’s heart. He felt radiant with happiness at hearing Will call him his husband, even if it was a ruse. “Ms. Lounds would find this amusing…”

“She would,” Will said, drying his hands, touching Hannibal’s hand where it rested. “I didn’t mind it.”

“I thought you would have been frothing at the mouth,” Hannibal chuckled, and kissed Will’s ear, holding him more tightly as he basked in the glow of their successful dinner with the Police Chief … and their strange newly married status.

“Why is that?” Will asked, canting his head up to look at Hannibal behind him.

“You seemed to detest me at the time during which she published that particular headline,” Hannibal sighed, and met Will’s blue eyes, his own soft and dark, happy.

“That was over three years ago,” Will explained, and turned to look at Hannibal full on, arms around his shoulders. “Before I wanted to admit my feelings for you.”

“But you never minded being called my husband in the media?” Hannibal asked, with a tilt of his head, and thumbed Will’s jaw, utterly taken with him.

“I did, but I don’t now,” Will said, moving his head into Hannibal hand.

“We will have to have rings made, now,” Hannibal reminded Will, his eyes sparkling behind the glasses. “We have a story to maintain.” It was clear that buying rings with Will was beyond anything Hannibal had ever imagined would actually happen between them.

“If that’s what you’d like to do,” Will whispered, resting their foreheads together, chest-to-chest. “There’s a shop in town.”

“Are you proposing, Will?” Hannibal asked, jesting, with a bright gleam in his eyes as he held Will close to him, both long arms hooked under Will’s arms.

“It’s not so much a far stretch, is it?” Will asked, swallowing a little, nervous.

Hannibal stopped breathing for a moment, and blinked at Will, then looked down and smiled, too full of emotion to maintain eye contact as he took a deep breath. “One is a lovely facade we play to keep us hidden from the consequences of our own notoriety, and the other …”

“The other could be fact, despite everything,” Will whispered, digging into his pants pocket for a moment, and then produced a velvet box and held it up for Hannibal to see. Will often went to the market alone, and Hannibal never questioned the cash that returned or didn’t.

“Will-” Hannibal managed, as shock shot it’s way down every nerve, plunging him into a moment he would remember for the rest of his life in absolute, crystalline clarity: Will holding a velvet box in front of him. “You’ve … surprised me. Again…” he whispered, unable to feel his hands or feet.

Will opened the box, inside a beautifully made gold ring sat in the encased velvet cushion. It wasn’t much, but Will wasn’t a man who did elaborate. “I like surprising you.”

“When...” Hannibal began to ask, and reached out to pluck the ring from the box. He admired it under the kitchen lights for a moment, then slipped it onto his left ring finger where it fit, just so. Overwhelmed, Hannibal’s eyes brimmed with tears, and he cupped Will’s face with both hands, and kissed him, deeply.

“The other week,” Will answered between heated, long, passionate kisses, glad that Hannibal liked it, even in it’s simplicity.  
Hannibal plunged his ringed hand into Will’s hair, and kissed him harder, both of their hearts hammering against the spot where their chests were pressed together. “Will-”

Will groaned, gripping Hannibal tightly around the waist, the box dropped and forgotten about. He hadn’t planned on it being like this but it felt  _ right. _

Right was an understatement to Hannibal. His blood roared in his ears as he and Will kissed, heatedly, and he pulled back only to look into Will’s eyes, a few tears escaping, then kissed him again, still utterly speechless not only by the surprise, but that Will had thought of it last week.

Will thumbed some of Hannibal’s tears away, gently, and kissed him sweetly this time. “Yes?”

No words in any language Hannibal knew how to speak were able to capture what he wanted to say, except one, “yes.” Hannibal smiled, as emotional as he had been the night he’d scarred and left Will in his kitchen, but overjoyed this time, instead of shattered. “I accept.”

Will chuckled against Hannibal’s mouth and then kissed him harder, longer, cupping his face with both hands. For once, Will knew this choice was the right one. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Hannibal whispered back, dizzy with joy as he kissed Will, over and over, unable to stop. “You bought this last week?”

“I did,” Will answered, quietly between just the two of them.

“What prompted you to do so?” Hannibal asked, intimately, nuzzling his fiance slowly, breathing in the scent of Will’s skin.

“I saw the shop, and… I went out on a whim. I’ve thought about it, often, but I think now is a good time to consider it,” Will explained, glad that Hannibal had said yes, his heart feeling as though it was racing miles and miles an hour,

Hannibal could not imagine an answer besides yes, not to Will. “I will never remove it,” he promised, and brushed their lips together again, his own heart doing precisely the same. Their hearts were synchronized these days, like time pieces set by an expert hand. “I’ll find one for you, as well. We won’t be able to marry with our real names, of course. A ceremony is prohibited here, after all.”

“Married either way, doesn’t matter how or by whom,” Will whispered, and backed Hannibal into the living room, slowly.

“We have an understanding,” Hannibal whispered back, and laid on the couch gracefully, then tugged Will down with him and kissed his lips, slowly and sweetly.

Will grinned, taking Hannibal’s glasses off and setting them down on the side table, and then laid out over him as they kissed. “We do.”

There was no more perfect weight than that of Will laying over him like this. Hannibal tilted his head and captured Will’s lips, curling one long leg around the back of Will’s thighs as he pressed their bodies together from sternum to hip, clothes a mere afterthought.

Will started to work Hannibal’s shirt buttons undone, slowly, as they kissed. As tanned skin was revealed, Will kissed down his ‘husband’s’ neck to his chest, breathing in the warmth of his skin.

Hannibal’s chest rose slowly under Will’s mouth, and he tugged Will’s polo shirt off, over his head with both hands, and noticed the gleam of his ring there with a smile. “Will…”

Will grinned, bright eyed, up at Hannibal, nosing and kissing his way down. His hands roved over plains of scarred skin, as he bit one of Hannibal's nipples between his teeth.

Hannibal arched up and groaned at the bite, “harder…” he ordered, softly. Watching Will’s teeth on his flesh made Hannibal’s cock strain hard at the fabric of his pants.

Will bit harder, watching the way Hannibal reacted, and then sucked the nub into his mouth. He played against Hannibal's straining erection, slowly.

Hannibal gasped, and arched, then yanked at Will’s hair, more roughly. “Yes-” he moaned, shaking from head to toe as he rutted against Will’s body, desperately.

“Yes, what?” Will said with a dark, playful grin up at Hannibal, smoothing his palm down over his bulge.

The touch of Will’s hand made Hannibal’s eyes close with ecstatic pleasure as he rutted into Will’s touch. “I want your mouth,” he moaned, breathlessly, and leaned down to kiss Will’s beautiful mouth, hard.

“Do you?” Will sighed against Hannibal’s mouth, flicking the button of his pants undone, and letting Hannibal loose.

“Yes,” Hannibal hissed, sighing with relief when Will freed him from the increasingly tight confines of his trousers. “Your hot, beautiful, clever mouth …” Hannibal whispered. It was not often words had ever wounded him, but when they had, they’d come from Will’s tongue.

Will worked Hannibal’s pants off and slid back down his body, treasuring every inch of his skin with a kiss or nip of flesh, pausing at the grove of his hips. He lathed his tongue there, just breathing against Hannibal’s skin, teasing.

“Will-” Hannibal moaned, watching as Will seemed to enjoy paying him back for the teasing he’d given him the other night while Will had been handcuffed. “Another reckoning?”

“Would it be undeserved?” Will whispered, hot against Hannibal’s cock as he ghosted his mouth over it slowly.

Hannibal reached one hand up to the arm of the couch, and gripped it tightly, then twisted the other hand even more tightly in Will’s hair. “Not at all, you have an aptitude for justice…”

“When it comes to  you,” Will admitted, huskily, as he lathed his tongue then over the slit of Hannibal’s cock, licking the precome off and savoring the taste he’d grown to like.

A breathless, throaty gasp from Hannibal echoed in the high-ceilinged living room as he yanked at Will’s curls, and looked down at him, chest heaving. “Do you like the taste of me, Will?”

“Yes,” Will said with a hum, swallowing down the salty taste and then ducked his head down once again, taking the tip into his mouth.

“I’ve … imagined you devouring me…” Hannibal whispered, between moans, and spread his firm, hairy thighs as Will took him into his mouth, a few Lithuanian curses escaping his lips.

Will spread his hands against Hannibal’s thighs, gripping them tightly as he took him down, to the hilt, getting better at this with each time.

Hannibal’s head fell back against the arm of the sofa, and his thighs trembled against Will’s hands as he arched, pressing himself into the tight, velvety cavern of Will’s wickedly hot mouth. “So good,” he managed, in English, his accent thick in the heat of the moment. No one but Will had ever made Hannibal’s powerhouse of a brain forget an entire language before.

Will sucked and twirled his tongue around Hannibal’s cock, up and down the shaft with his mouth. He tugged on his balls, and then rolled them gently, at first, in his palm, and then gave them a little tug, eyes never leaving Hannibal’s face.

Hannibal looked down at Will, his lips agape, pupils utterly black as he uncurled his hand from the velvet of the couch arm and touched Will’s jaw, fingers shaking. “Like that..” he whispered, and actually smiled a little at the yank to his balls. He obviously found beauty and pleasure in pain, as Will did. That was part of what united them.

Will popped his mouth off, panting a little, and then dragged his teeth over the head of Hannibal’s cock, slowly, enticing the nerves there with a little pain, and then licked, once. “That?”

Will’s teeth, against the head of Hannibal’s cock sent red ribbons of pain shooting up his nerves to his spine. It was glorious. “Fuck-” he swore, and pushed himself up, then kissed Will’s mouth, plumbing the taste of himself out of it as he pulled Will up over his hips, eagerly.

Quickly, Will had to discard his own pants and shoes to the floor, and then reached over Hannibal and into the drawer for the lube. “It’s so… hot when you swear,” Will admitted, pressing the container into Hannibal’s hand to prep Will himself.

Hannibal sat upright, kissing Will with ferocious passion as he plunged slicked fingers into his body, slowly, but insistently. “You leave me with nothing but the most ragged bits of my sanity when you do something like that-” Hannibal admitted as he fingered Will.

Will shook with need as he spread his hands over Hannibal’s shoulders, up the back of his neck, kissing him with wild abandon. “Good-”

Hannibal’s fingers spread Will open, flexing and brushing against Will’s prostate as their mouths melded together. He slipped both fingers out, and guided Will down over his cock, then whispered in Will’s ear, “ _ fuck _ yourself on me, Will.”

“Happily,” Will groaned, sliding down over Hannibal’s slicked cock, hips grinding slowly over the doctor’s as Will found his pace, slowly at first.

Will’s body gripped Hannibal tightly, and completely. Hannibal could barely summon a single coherent thought as he watched Will rise and fall over him, struck utterly dumb by his incredible sensual beauty, by the feeling of their bodies joining. 

He laid his hands over Will’s hips, caressing the smooth flesh there up to Will’s waist before he claimed Will’s mouth in a fiery kiss, and planted a foot against the cushions before he began to cant his hips upward.

Will groaned, up on the heels of his feet, using them hoist himself up and down Hannibal’s shaft, faster and deeper as they kissed heatedly. “Hannibal-”

Hannibal cupped his hands under Will’s ass, supporting and squeezing him before he slapped the left cheek. “My wedding ring should make a mark on your ass…” he rasped, and slapped Will’s left cheek again, harder.

Will swore at the way the pain stung and then blossomed into something better, and rutted down harder into Hannibal. “Still marking me as your own?”

“Always-” Hannibal promised as they crashed together, almost frantically, and Hannibal clenched his jaw, able to feel heat spreading from the center of his back, building like a wave before it crashed onto the shore. 

Will sat back, head lolling with the motion as he rode Hannibal, taking him so far up he was sure he’d feel his cock beat against his heart. Heat build in his core, at the base of his spine, flushing his whole body. “Good…”

“Will-” Hannibal gasped as the way Will rode him, like they had been doing this for years already. “Fuck-” he moaned, and dug his nails against Will’s ass, leaving red marks in their wake as he felt himself start to come apart at his seams.

That was all it took for Will, his body hitting the mark where it could no longer take any more. He came, in a burst of white hot behind squeezed shut eyes, and gripped his fingers into Hannibal’s chest. “Hannibal-!”

Will’s nails dug into Hannibal’s hairy chest in just the same way Hannibal’s sank into Will’s ass. Hannibal felt Will come, hot and thick, all over his stomach, and swore under his breath as he came inside Will, back arched as he shuddered his way through the orgasm, flushed from head to toe, sweating.

Will fell over Hannibal,  resting their heads together, panting, catching their breaths. “I love you.”

They were a tangled, gasping mess. It was all Hannibal had ever wanted. He opened his eyes, and stared up at Will, at his husband. “I love you, I will until the day I die, and likely … beyond that.”

“I hope so. I’m not letting go now that we’ve finally gotten here,” Will whispered back, his breath stilling.

“Is that a promise?” Hannibal asked, softly, and stroked his hands down Will’s back, smoothing over his skin with great care, down to the red marks his ring had left against Will’s ass.

“I bought you a ring,” Will insisted, as if challenging Hannibal to fight that.

“So you did,” Hannibal smiled, and looked at his thick gold ring, admiring it. “I love it. I’ll have to get you something that suits you well.”

“It doesn’t have to be extravagant, Hannibal. It just has to mean something,” Will explained, quietly, serious.

“I know very well you would object to even a single stone,” Hannibal chuckled, and brushed Will’s sweaty curls out of his eyes, looking his face over. “I have no plans to festoon you with diamonds.”

Will smiled,very aware that Hannibal knew him better than he knew himself, sometimes. “Good, so long as we are clear.”

“Crystal clear,” Hannibal whispered back, and held Will’s left hand, admiring it as he imagined a ring. “White gold, I think.”

“What makes you say that?” Will asked, curious, more than anything, though he suspected it may have something to do with his last marriage.

“Yellow gold would look pedestrian and banal with your coloring,” Hannibal said, with a little sigh. “I’ve seen your skin by moonlight, and silver suits you well.”

Will nosed against Hannibal’s, ghosting a kiss over his full lips. “I trust your judgement.”

“Speaking of judgement, we should dispose of those bones ... “ Hannibal sighed, but made no effort to move.

“Yes. We should. Too soon?” Will asked, not sure if the Captain would still be watching.

Hannibal gave it a moment’s thought, then looked back at the kitchen. “We’ll take half in a bag now, half tomorrow, and make it look as though we’re going out to fish in the deep ocean.”

“Good idea,” Will murmured, and kissed Hannibal jaw before getting off of him to gather their clothes, once more.

  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

They filled a bag with some of the bones from the chest and  took it out to the boat, Vincent just behind them, at their heels, happy for the adventure. Will helped Hannibal onto the boat first and then the dog, joining them with a little leap. He undid the rope and then the anchor. He went around to check the sails and the mast, and moved quickly, so that they were out into the water not more than twenty minutes later.

“This is rather nice,” Hannibal admitted, once they were far out enough on the water that they could not be seen. He looked over the wide horizon, and weighed down the bag of bones with rocks he’d taken with them.

“It’s nice weather,” Will agreed, the breeze blowing through his hair, wisps of tiny greys could be seen now in the sunlight.

Hannibal gazed back at Will, struck by the way the sun hit him, and closed the bag before dropping it neatly overboard. “It suits you.”

“The sun?” Will smiled over his shoulder as Hannibal dumped the bag.

“The sun, and the sea,” Hannibal said, and walked over to Will as the bag sank, deep into the ocean. “This strange, resourceful country…” he wrapped both arms around Will, from behind.

Will steered the small boat as they sailed out, and Vincent looked over the side, not brave enough to jump in, thankfully. Will leaned back into Hannibal, sighing contently. “I would hate to have to leave…”

“As would I,” Hannibal sighed, and kissed Will’s temple as the sun beat down on both of them. “It’s been some time since I have had a home.”

Will turned his head to look at Hannibal out of the corner of his eye, watching him with a wistful smile. “No matter where we go, you’ll always be home to me. We’ll always have that.”

Hannibal closed his eyes, and nuzzled his nose against Will’s throat. “A beautiful sentiment,” he whispered. “Should the Captain discover our identities, we could sail around the world…”

“That could be fun. Might need something bigger, more storage,” Will offered, thoughtfully.

“I wouldn’t object,” Hannibal hummed, and looked at Vincent where he’d decided to lay on the deck. “Vincent seems accustomed already.”

“Would be very romantic,” Will sighed, wistfully, and then laughed at the dog. “He likes the boat, the water…”

“You would be unable to adopt any more of them…” Hannibal teased as he tucked a strand of Will’s hair behind the curve of his nearly elven ear. 

“No, I suppose not. At least not until we land and relocate for good,” Will suggested, placing a chaste kiss against Hannibal’s jaw.

“Or until you find an underfed seal,” Hannibal joked as Will kissed his jaw. A little scruff had grown in over the course of the day. The scruff, and his mussed hair, along with the glasses he wore made Hannibal look markedly different than the sleek, stylish doctor the media knew.

“Why would I take a seal in?” Will laughed, reaching up to touch the side of Hannibal’s face with one hand, lovingly.

“They’re rather like dogs,” Hannibal chuckled, and leaned his face against Will’s hand, nuzzling it. “You’d train it to follow our boat, and feed it fish when it jumped aboard.”

“And let it get eaten by a shark?” Will chuckled right back and turned his head to kiss Hannibal’s lips. “That’s cruel.”

Hannibal kissed Will back, and then nipped at his lower lip. “Sharks must eat as well…” he reasoned, with a warm purr in his voice.

“You would know…” Will sighed, feeling Hannibal’s own shark like teeth against his lip.

Hannibal smiled, against Will’s mouth, and then kissed the side of his neck, dragging his teeth over Will’s skin as the warm breeze blew around them. “You are more shark than seal…” he whispered, admiringly.

“Am I? What’s that make you?” Will teased, shivering at the combination of breeze and breath against his skin.

“Some dark, nameless beast lurking in the deep,” Hannibal whispered, and bit the lobe of Will’s ear as he slipped his hands under Will’s shirt at the back.

The boat coasted as they shared a moment, this time on a boat without so many wounds to proceed them. Will leaned into Hannibal, nuzzling against his mouth there against his ear. “How ominous.” 

“And you’ve made the monster love you,” Hannibal whispered, with another nip of his teeth, and a tug, holding Will a little tighter as his palms flattened against Will’s skin under his shirt. He’d always admired the slope of Will’s lower back.

“Have I?” Will whispered, eyes closed to enjoy and savor the moment, wind whipping his hair.

“Ardently, and with more passion than even he knew he possessed,” Hannibal whispered back as the boat rocked softly beneath their feet.

Will had never loved nor had as great of passion for someone as he did Hannibal, not even Molly, and maybe that was because he always had to hide who he was deep down. Hannibal drew it out of him, saw it in him at the first sight of each other. “I should reward him for his patience.”

Will had nothing to hide with Hannibal. Their only heartbreak came when Will hid things from Hannibal, or vice versa. They were well beyond that, now. “How would you do that?” Hannibal whispered, and cupped one side of Will’s jaw, then stroked his thumb over Will’s lower lip.

“Tell me your desires, Hannibal,” Will whispered, not a soul around to see them nor hear them.

Hannibal’s eyes darkened with lust at the way Will whispered that to him, and cupped the back of Will’s neck with one hand, then kissed him, deeply. For years, simply touching Will’s shoulder, his hand was thrill enough. Even after weeks of kissing and laying together at night, touching Will at all seemed like a dream. “Bind my hands,” he said, between slow kisses, “and have your reckoning in full.”

Eyes darkening with sudden lust, Will’s breathing deepened as he swallowed. “Really?” The thought had occurred to him, but he didn’t want to cross any lines without knowing Hannibal’s first.

“Bind my hands, tie them with sailor’s knots,” Hannibal nodded, and kissed Will harder, pleased that Will’s breath changed with the thought. “Tie me to the mast, if you need to…”

“Better than a tree,” Will said under his breath, and looked around. “Let me drop anchor first…” The last thing they needed was to be floating at sea with no guide of where they were going.

Hannibal nodded, and kissed Will again, giving him a slow bite against his lower lip before he pulled back, smirking with anticipation. “Of course…”

Will did as he had to do and then found the extra rope and wrapped it around the mast, and beckoned his ‘husband’ over. “C’mere.”

Hannibal licked his own lower lip, and then walked over to Will, slowly and gracefully, to the mast, reading the look in Will’s eyes as he brushed his hand over Will’s hip, and stood in front of the mast, his back to it. “Where would you like me, Will?”

“Given me your hands first,” Will demanded, and once he had Hannibal's wrists, he tied the rope around them, secure like a fisherman's knot. “Hands above your head.”

Hannibal raised his bound hands, over his head, which stretched his long body out, appealingly. He looked up at the knots, then at Will. “Impressive.”

“Did you expect different?” Will asked, wrapping the ends of the rope around the pole a few times and then knotted it once more.

“I have always taken pleasure from watching you work,” Hannibal purred as the knot was tied, expertly and so securely he was sure he could not work his way out, even if the boat began to sink.

Trust was a two way street here, so Hannibal now had to trust Will. The brunet kissed Hannibal's neck and started to undo the buttons of his shirt, making his way down. Hannibal arched his throat to the side for Will’s mouth, and his chest rose and fell smoothly under the shirt as Will exposed him. The sun highlighted the silver hairs on Hannibal’s chest, making them glisten.

They had taken turns in exploring one another, to find the buttons and press them perfectly. Will slid his hand up Hannibal’s now naked torso, and pinched his nipple, and then worked his mouth down around it, sucked and biting in turns.

Hannibal moaned, and watched Will devour his chest as the warm breeze tousled Will’s curls. “Your teeth are addictive,” Hannibal groaned.

“Are they?” Will asked, seductively,  hooking fingers into Hannibal’s pants and undoing them, pushing his pants to the ground to puddle at his feet, shoes still on.

“I’m not certain I would manage a day without them,” Hannibal admitted as Will bared him to the sun and sea.

Will licked his tongue around Hannibal’s cock, slowly, and then took him down to the hilt, nose nestled into this the course thicket of hair at the base, hands wrapped around his thighs to pull him closer, and tug on Hannibal’s restraints.

Hannibal’s thighs flexed at the touch of Will’s tongue, and spread, already hard so quickly that it made him dizzy. “Fuck… Will-” Hannibal gasped.

Will tsk’d as he pulled off and gave Hannibal’s balls a good squeezer. “Swearing already, Doctor?”

“You’ve managed to entice me,” Hannibal gasped, raggedly, and enjoyed the throb of Will tugging at his balls.

“Turning you into a man of poor manners,” Will murmured and sucked Hannibal’s cock back into his mouth and spread his thighs with his hands.

“What have you done to me, Will?” Hannibal marveled, and moaned, his head falling forward to watch Will suck him down. Will’s mouth on him,  the hollowing of his cheeks was exquisite.

“Changed you,” Will said, definitively, and licked Hannibal’s cock only once, and then dipped lower to slather his balls instead, wetting his thumb with his own spit to press against Hannibal’s entrance, teasingly.

Hannibal’s eyes flashed hot and dark when Will touched him there, and his arms flexed as he curled his fingers around the rope that bound him. “Adventurous, Will?” he gasped, softly.

“You said I could take my reckoning,” Will said, daringly, and licked a little lower, wetting Hannibal. They hadn’t brought anything, that he knew of.

Hannibal moaned, more loudly, and spread his legs, slowly, his back arching as the sun shone on his bare ass. “Anything…” he agreed, breathlessly.

“Wait here,” Will said, breathing against Hannibal’s hip softly, and then stood, heading into the small cabin to see if he could find a bottle of anything that might work. He spotted sun tan lotion, and brought it back out.

Hannibal waited, almost enjoying the suspense of being left like this, exposed and helpless, tied to Will’s ship. His dark eyes looked relieved, however, when Will reappeared, and Hannibal licked his lips, in anticipation. “Sunscreen?”

“Unless you’d prefer motor oil?” Will offered, skeptically, and slathered some of the lotion over his fingers and stepped between Hannibal’s spread legs.

Hannibal wrapped his legs around Will’s waist, clinging to him the only way that he could, then smirked at him. “Decidedly not.”

“Good.” Will slipped his hand between them and slid a finger into Hannibal, slowly, and kissed him, all at once, tongues sliding.

It had been years, many years since Hannibal had permitted anyone to inhabit his body. Will made it feel as though he’d never been touched before. His mouth went still for a moment as Will’s finger slid in, and then he kissed Will again, hungrily, as his body clung around Will’s finger, throbbing from the inside.

“How do you like it? How did you imagine this, Hannibal?” Will asked between fervent kisses, slipping another finger in, spreading the other man open slowly.

Hannibal’s mouth opened, but at first, no sound escaped. “Deeper …” Hannibal managed, his eyes half closed. “I imagined … over my desk, when you were freed from captivity …”

“You wanted my hands around your neck, fucking you into the desk…” Will whispered harshly, into Hannibal's ear as he pressed his fingers deeper into the doctor's tight body. “Take all my wrath out on you…”

Hannibal hitched his hips up, and tipped his head back, lips parting. “Yes..” he whispered, and squeezed Will with his thighs.

Will bit Hannibal's velvety soft lobe and spread him apart, adding in another finger. “Maybe I'll fuck you here and again at home, over your new desk, too.”

Hannibal’s lithe back arched hard, and he gasped as he rocked himself down over Will’s fingers. “I wouldn’t object-” he moaned.

“Let me have my way with you,” Will groaned, sliding his fingers out of the other man, he undid his belt and pants, and slicked up his cock.

Hannibal’s breath hitched when Will began to slick himself, and he pulled him closer with both legs. “It’s well deserved, I think…”

“More than deserved,” Will retorted, almost cruelly, and slipped his cock against Hannibal’s entrance, slowly easing himself in.

The feeling of being impaled, slowly, by Will’s cock was beyond anything Hannibal could describe with words. He watched Will, breathlessly, as his body stretched around him, tight and throbbing. “Will-”

Will hooked his arms around Hannibal and up over his shoulders, pulling him down on him as he breached him, up on his booted toes, shaking from sensation and lust. “Hannibal-” he finally whispered back, brokenly.

Hannibal kissed Will, trembling, and tightened his legs around Will’s waist as he began to ride him slowly, “Perfect-” he gasped, flushed all over.

Will pushed up into Hannibal with every downward pivot the other man made, panting as a low growl left his chest, filling the air around them. He bit Hannibal’s bottom lip slowly, tasting the tinge of copper there with another low groan.

Hannibal knew Will had never done this with a man before, but as with all things, Will was a natural talent at this. Hannibal relished the sound of Will groaning, the sting of his teeth, and clenched his fingers in the rope, helplessly. “Harder…” he moaned.

Biting Harder, Will thrust up, pushing Hannibal down as much as he could over his cock, creating blissful friction with the confined doctor. “Good?”

“Fuck, yes-” Hannibal swore, breathlessly. He could feel Will’s cock, impaling him, up to his stomach, it seemed from the inside. “More…” all Hannibal could summon to mind were needy, simple words. Filled with Will like this, his higher faculties abandoned him.

And so Will did, faster and harder, holding Hannibal’s hips now as he fucked his would-be husband against the mast, the boat rocking and swaying around them. Will thrust with abandon, heat building quickly now as he lost himself to the motions.

Hannibal could not cling with his arms, as he longed to, all he could do was watch the lust in Will’s eyes, and sweaty curls fall into his face as Will lost himself in the sensation of fucking Hannibal for the first time. Hannibal’s head fell back against the mast, and he whispered under his breath as he started to feel heat licking at the small of his back. “Will, Will -”

Sweat dripped down Will’s hair line, off his chin as he started to come undone completely, all inhibitions lost to the sensation, everything turning white hot at once, panting and screwing Hannibal as hard as he could.” Hannibal-”

“Fuck me through it,” Hannibal said, roughly, urgently, and then moaned, his back arching wildly as he writhed over Will and against the mast, and came hard against Will’s stomach. He gasped for breath and let his head fall back, throat exposed as he clung to Will with both legs and pulsed around him.

Will slowed only after Hannibal had, messy now and stained with bodily fluids, Will hardly cared. As they both slowed, he pulled a knife from his pants, kneeling to retrieve it, and then cut Hannibal free. Hannibal rubbed his wrists, his knees shaking a little from the force of the orgasm, and wrapped his arms around Will, then kissed his throat with trembling lips. “You … are a natural talent…”

The brunet chuckled, leaning in against Hannibal. “For fucking?”

Hannibal laughed at that, helplessly, riding high on a wave of bliss running through his body. He curled his tingling fingers in Will’s hair, and kissed him again. “For fucking me, specifically, but … yes,” Hannibal whispered, and shivered, not cold, simply tingling all over.

Will kissed and nuzzled Hannibal, blissfully unaware of anything around them, but all was quiet but for the sea waves and birds above. “I was worried you’d hate it.”

“Worried that I would not be willing to give over control to you?” Hannibal asked, softly, as their noses brushed, and he brushed damp curls out of Will’s eyes for him. “You and I are adept at many different roles, I adore taking you, and I adore feeling you take control of me. I cannot imagine another person with whom I would allow it, however. Only you.”

“Trust,” Will said, quietly, kissing Hannibal softly, slowly, enjoying their intimacy out on the boat, without urgency.

“Trust,” Hannibal agreed after their lips parted. “I was unsure, at times, if we would ever recover it…”

“We’re both to blame there,” Will sighed, gazing at Hannibal up close, hugging him around his shoulders.

“So we are,” Hannibal agreed, and laid one of his hands over Will’s heart, then kissed him again before considering him with a soft smile in his eyes. “The course of true love never did run smooth,” he quipped, thinking of all they had been through, all they had been to one another.

“No it does not,” Will smiled, resting his hand over Hannibal’s, gazing at him a while longer. “We should get back…”

“We should,” Hannibal sighed, and kissed Will again, still shamelessly naked and flushed under the Cuban sun. “I’ve never enjoyed destroying evidence more thoroughly.”

“We'll do it again,” Will whispered against Hannibal's mouth, and then bent to drag his pants back up for him.

Hannibal smiled, and fastened his pants, then did the same to Will, kissing his skin on the way up. “Perhaps with the proper equipment this time,” Hannibal jested with a look at the sunscreen.

“Was it so terrible?” Will laughed, and kissed Hannibal one more time before grabbing get their shirts.

“We’ll smell like coconut for weeks,” Hannibal chuckled, and took his shirt.

Will snorted softly, wrinkling his nose at Hannibal as he put his shirt on and then wandered over to bring the anchor back up, and then into the small cabin to start up the boat once more. “There are worse things you could smell like…”

“Much worse,” Hannibal agreed, and followed Will, then hugged him from behind, still on a high from earlier.

Will slowly brought up the speed of the boat, once more, steering it back around toward land. He leaned back against Hannibal, patting his hand with one of his own. “I promise to find something else to put on the boat for next time.”

“Thank you,” Hannibal whispered, and nibbled at Will’s earlobe.”I promise to make it worth the effort.”

“You always do,” Will said, memories of everything they’d been through leading up to this point in their lives.

“No matter how trying my acquaintance?” Hannibal asked, lips against Will’s earlobe, warm and smooth.

“No matter,” Will agreed, and nuzzled back against Hannibal’s face as he steered the ship back home, at their little private dock.

“I hope there is, among the many universes, a world where we left Florence together, in your hand-hewn ship,” Hannibal whispered, thoughtfully.

“Maybe somewhere, in another time, another… place,” Will sighed, not wanting to think of all the mistakes he’d made getting here.

“There are infinite numbers of us, hopefully, all of them together, somehow,” Hannibal whispered, his hand over Will’s heart as Will sailed them home. “In some world, I whisked you away with me instead of scarring you,” he said, with regret.

Will had promised himself not to get angry or upset over the past anymore, that he could let it go, and he honestly tried very hard, every day, not to dwell. “But that is not  _ our  _ past.”

“But this is our present,” Hannibal reminded Will as their house came into view, surrounded by lush, tropical greenery.

“It is,” Will agreed, his heart thumping a little harder under Hannibal’s hand as he controlled his emotions not to be catty with their shared history.

Hannibal sighed, and kissed the side of Will’s face as he felt Will’s emotions begin to rear their heads. “Cubano sandwiches?” Hannibal offered, aware that Will preferred that to anything fancier.

“Sure,” Will said, quietly, as he began to steer the boat to their dock, cutting the engines.

Hannibal knew even the mention of that night was enough to put Will in a foul mood, and regretted mentioning it at all. Vincent pawed at Will’s ankle, and grunted up at him as Hannibal looked at him. “Any thoughts as to your preferred size of second dog?” he asked.

“I’ll know when I see him,” Will replied, and stepped out of Hannibal’s grasp, to drop their anchor once more, and tie the boat to the dock. He scooped and picked up their dog, petting him.

Will changed like the sea, from friendly to stormy with a change of the wind. Hannibal stepped off of the boat, and followed his husband. “I’m certain he’ll be as unique as Vincent.”

They strolled back to the house, slowly, and Will stepped in line with Hannibal, matching stride-for-stride. “Perhaps.”

“You don’t have one in mind?” Hannibal asked, surprised, and opened the door for Will.

“Waiting to see if we stay or are forced out.” Will set Vincent down in the house where he wiped his paws, and then Will toed off his boots at the door, not to drag sand in.

Hannibal removed his shoes, and looked around their house, which was just as they’d left it. “I have the feeling the Chief has decided we are far from the murderous type,” Hannibal chuckled, and washed his hands.

“We could only hope. Your fainting spell was ingenious,” Will commented, taking everything from his pockets and left it on the table.

Hannibal chuckled, and looked at Will as he sliced freshly made bread. “A blow to my pride, but necessary,” he admitted. “It’s difficult to be a serial killer when one cannot stand the sight of blood.”

“Covers you, but not me,” Will said, easing back into their natural, easy conversation, forgetting the boat.

“Your kind-hearted habit of collecting stray dogs may have helped,” Hannibal noted, making Will’s sandwich with care.

“Maybe. We do play parts well,” Will sighed, and walked to Hannibal slowly, wrapping his arms around him, to feel close again, not away. Someday they would need to talk things over, to get it out of the way.

“We perform well together,” Hannibal chuckled, and leaned back against Will’s chest, relieved to feel their connection again. “Seamlessly.”

“We’ve always been in sync, even when we weren’t together,” Will whispered, pressing a kiss into Hannibal’s jaw.

“To an almost eerie degree,” Hannibal smiled, and looked at Will over his shoulder, with soft, dark eyes. He assembled the sandwich without needing to look, he’d made enough of them for Will that he could do it perfectly, even blind.

“Agreed,” Will whispered, gazing back at Hannibal, well aware he was preparing his favorite food here, that he was easing the discourse.

Hannibal laid the sandwich in a cast-iron pan, and pressed it with another pan as it began to brown. “What you said about Garrett Jacob Hobbs, that you felt as though you were doing the same things at the same time … I thought that, about you and I, many times.”

“Such as?” Will asked, hooking his arms under Hannibal's, clasping them around his shoulders.

“That perhaps when you were sleepwalking, I would wake, for no reason,” Hannibal suggested, and then turned the sandwich and browned the other side. The tangy smell of the cubano sandwich filled the air, melting cheese and spice becoming more aromatic as they heated up.

Will rubbed on hand over Hannibal’s heart this time. “Maybe…”

“I found myself waking in the middle of the night, wondering what it was you were doing,” Hannibal admitted, and pulled the sandwich out of the pan, placed it on a white plate, and cut it into two perfect, equal halves.

“Perhaps that’s the reason I slept walked. Or you were you finding your next meal,” Will said, teasingly.

“The rude are plentiful, I hardly need to work that hard to find them,” Hannibal chuckled, and passed Will his sandwich, with a kiss.

Will smiled against Hannibal’s mouth, and took the plate and leaned against the counter, taking a bite of the sandwich, humming. “I don’t think I’ll tire of these.”

“I don’t  think you will, either,” Hannibal laughed, and poured Will and himself two glasses of wine.

Sandwiches like this were much better than the casseroles Molly was constantly making, with tons of leftovers. He kissed Hannibal again and took the glass, going to sit at the table.

Hannibal joined him. There was, of course, an unspoken competition between Will’s former wife and himself, even if Will was not aware of it. Hannibal kept score in his head. “At the rate you eat them, I’ll have to make our own cheese.”

“Make cheese?” Will laughed, swallowing down another bite, nearly finished with it.

“It’s not difficult,” Hannibal hummed, “we could have a small goat … perhaps two in the back yard. They are plentiful in this country.”

“Goat cheese?” Will almost laughed, shaking his head. “Why not... If we stay.”

“If a Cuban SWAT team does not, in fact, break down our front door?” Hannibal asked, calmly, and sipped his wine.

“Yes, that,” Will chuckle and ate the last bit of his sandwich.

“I’m fairly confident that we are safe, for the time being,” Hannibal said. “A pair of harmless gay men with too much money and time.”

Will laughed at that, and leaned over to kiss Hannibal on the lips. “I guess we need to do more extravagant things now to keep it that way.”

“We have an image to maintain, after all,” Hannibal laughed, and kissed Will back. “Perhaps we should adopt a poodle instead of a stray”, he teased.

“A poodle?” Will sipped his wine, shrugging his shoulders. “If we can find one around here…”

“I doubt that very much,” Hannibal chuckled, and sipped his wine. “The wealthy fled when Castro took power, and took their purebreds with them.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Will said, slyly.

Hannibal arched an eyebrow, curiously. “You sound as though you have an idea…”

“Maybe. I mean, there has to be a way to get a purebred dog here,” Will offered, gesturing.

“It’s my experience that in countries rife with governmental micro-management, the people have developed a way around nearly everything. We can ask at the market.” Hannibal rested their legs together.

“I will do that next outing,” Will assured, and then stood to take his plate to the sink to wash.

Hannibal admired Will as he washed his plate, and finished his wine, then stood behind him, arms around his husband. “I love you,” he said, simply and softly against Will’s ear.

Will smiled, almost to himself, and then leaned back against Hannibal and took his glass, too, to clean. “I love you, too, Hannibal.”


	7. Chapter 7

Bright and early the next morning, before Will woke, Hannibal left him with a hand-written note explaining that he had gone shopping, and departed early. Three hours later, Hannibal returned by cab, and let himself into the house, then listened for signs of Will’s state.

The younger man was in the shower, taking his time without Hannibal there to rush him along. The shower could be heard running as he let it spray down his back, warm but not too much so.

Hannibal bent down to pick up a little creature that followed him into the house on a leather leash. It was a copper red poodle puppy, only about ten weeks old, and already very alert to his surroundings. Vincent trotted down the stairs and barked once at the newcomer, but Hannibal shushed him by tossing a treat from his pocket, then took the puppy to the kitchen, carrying him like a baby.

“Hannibal?” Will called, wrapping a towel around his hips, from the top of the stairs. “You’re back?”

“I’m back,” Hannibal said, his back to Will as he made coffee in the kitchen with one hand. His hair was getting longer by the day, and silvery strands of it fell over his forehead and skimmed the top of his glasses.  
The puppy was too curious about the new voice to wait, and wriggled until he peeked toward the sound of Will’s voice with shiny, round eyes over Hannibal’s shoulder, which made the older man smile to himself.

Will pulled on a pair of boxers and then walked down the stairs, to the kitchen, to see what Hannibal was up to, since he didn’t come back up stairs. “Hannibal where did you-” he was cut short by the big eyes of the little thing in Hannibal arms. “What’s this?”

Hannibal turned to show Will the curly-haired, apricot colored puppy who looked like a peach-colored cloud of curls with bright eyes, and a button nose. “A puppy, a standard poodle puppy from the only unofficial breeder in the country,” Hannibal said, and walked the baby puppy closer to Will. “He seemed particularly bright.”

“Most poodles are,” Will said, reaching his hand out for the pup to sniff him. “ _ You _ got him.”

“I got him for you,” Hannibal said with a soft smile in his eyes as the puppy smelled Will’s hand, and gave it a lick with a quick flip of his tongue. Hannibal handed the soft puppy over to Will, putting him in Will’s arms carefully, and watched Will’s expression.

“He’s beautiful…” Will said, holding the soft pup in his arms. “I’ve never had a purebred anything…”

“One of many firsts lately,” Hannibal smiled as the pup, who looked like a teddy bear, climbed Will’s chest to lick his chin, instantly affectionate with him.

Will pet down the pup’s back, and then over the collar there, and then stopped to look at him. “Did you name him-”

“No,” Hannibal said, and watched Will’s hand as it moved over the pup’s leather collar, where a ring had been tied with a red ribbon. The ring was gleaming silver, and looked covered in etched fish scales that caught the light without being ostentatious. It was the perfect ring for a fisherman.  “I thought I would leave that to you.”

Will’s thoughts were distracted when he saw the ring and plucked it off the collar. “And this?”

“And this,” Hannibal said, as he stepped closer, smoothly, then took the ring, and slipped it onto Will’s finger, where it fit. “Is to fulfil a promise.”

Will wrapped his free arm around Hannibal’s shoulders, and kissed him, the puppy licking the chins. “Snickerdoodle.”

Hannibal kissed Will, deeply, rings on their fingers from one another for the first time. They were as officially married as they would ever be. “Snicker … doodle?” Hannibal asked, eyebrows going up as he repeated the name.

“It’s a warm, cinnamon and sugar cookie,” Will murmured, kissing Hannibal again as their palms slid together.

“I was certain you’d name him something like … Edwin,” Hannibal chuckled, and looked at Snickerdoodle with a little sigh

“Would you prefer Edgar. Or Hoover?” Will asked, willing to compromise.

“He’s your dog, you have last word on his name. If you think he is a … Snickerdoodle,” Hannibal said, his accent struggling a little around the sound of the word, “then that is what we shall call him.”

“You hate it.” Will sighed. “Edgar it is. Edgar and Vincent.”

“Edgar is much easier on my tongue,” Hannibal admitted with a chuckle, and scratched Edgar’s ear, which made him lean into Hannibal’s palm with all the trust in the world. 

Will shrugged, he supposed Edgar would have to do. He set the pup down. “Thank you.”

Edgar scampered over to Vincent to introduce himself by stretching out on his back, and exposing his stomach while he wagged. Vincent sniffed the pup, then laid by him with what looked like acceptance.    
  
“Love is a desire to see the beloved rejoice in even the simple pleasures of the world,” Hannibal said, and brushed a curl out of Will’s eyes. “You and I have seen the world through one another’s eyes for some time. Your empathy has begun to transfer to me, I could imagine your happiness at having him to the extent that it made me happy to bring him home for you.”

“I was going to get a purebred for  _ you _ ,” Will said, matter-of-factly. “I like my strays, but he is cute. So, Edgar is your name for him.” Had it been Will’s alone, Snickerdoodle would have been non-negotiable. 

Hannibal sighed, but a smile lingered in his dark eyes. “Edgar it is, in that case. I thought a poodle might be the preferred pet of the people suits we’ve adopted for the Chief’s inspections,” Hannibal said, but watched as Edgar explored the kitchen. He was, perhaps, a little more fond of the soft, non-shedding dog than he let on. 

“Your dog,” Will said, and went about getting coffee as  _ his _ dog, Vincent followed him.

“I do not have a dog,” Hannibal said, and watched Will make coffee as Edgar laid over Hannibal’s feet. 

Will gave Hannibal a look and then smirked to him. “If you say so.”

“He’s simply known me longer,” Hannibal explained, with a spread of his hand down at the puppy as he started to paw at Hannibal’s ankle for attention.

“He loves you. Name him,” Will said, taking his mug of coffee to sit down, and started to admire his ring.

Hannibal picked up the puppy, who wagged, madly, and snuggled against Hannibal’s chest, settling in for a nap like a baby against his shoulder. “Edgar is a suitable name,” he murmured, and smiled at Will. “Did I choose well?”

“Considering Edgar is the name I picked,” Will murmured, he shrugged, letting Hannibal have a moment with his dog.

“I was referring to your ring,” Hannibal said, dryly, and tilted his head at Will.

Will side eyed Hannibal with a shift of his jaw, trying to hide his smirk. “It's nice, yes. Probably nicer than what I gave you.”

Hannibal looked at his own ring, with a little smile. “How did you decide on this band?” he asked Will, and sat in one of the kitchen chairs while Edgar fell asleep on him, snoring quietly.

“It's the first one that looked like something you might like to wear, in your size. I didn't have a lot of flashy choices to choose from,” Will explained.

“Flashy?” Hannibal laughed at the choice of words, and smiled at Will. “I’m content with my ring. It’s simple, but elegant. Most importantly, it is from you.”

“You like things that stand out, and I didn’t want to put a ring on you that was anything like the one you wore in Italy,” Will suggested, taking a seat near Hannibal as Vincent sat at his feet.

Just as Hannibal kept score, silently, of the tacit competition between himself and Will’s former wife … he realized Will did the same thing, with Bedelia. Hannibal leaned closer, and kissed Will on the lips, holding it for a long moment before he looked into his eyes. “It is nothing at all like the ring I wore in Italy,” he assured Will.

“I know,” Will said, quietly, gazing back at Hannibal. “I made sure of that.”

“Just as I made certain that your ring is nothing like the one you wore before we fell,” Hannibal murmured, and swallowed. It was a sensitive subject, between the two of them, and like a wound that had not healed, painful to encroach upon.

“And it’s nothing like that one,” Will promised, taking Hannibal’s hand and threading their fingers together, palm to palm. Will had married Molly knowing she’d never completely understand him, that she would reside on one side of his life, forever shrouded away from his darkness. That was marriage so much as it was a sham.

Hannibal squeezed Will’s hand as he held the puppy to his shoulder with the other, and rested their faces together. “A ring is an important symbol of the relationship itself…”

“Meaningless if you just pick one up on the way to the courthouse,” Will suggested, a token memory of his last marriage.

Hannibal met Will’s eyes and smiled a little. Relief seeped through him at that, and he nuzzled their noses together. “Or pulled them off of dead bodies, taking up their identities with the rings themselves,” Hannibal said, and sighed. “Mine was always too large. I never bothered to have it resized.”

“Mine came from a pawn shop,” Will sighed, nuzzling their noses together. “I spent two days trying to decide which one to get you.”

“A pawn shop?” Hannibal tsked, and shook his head, then looked at Will’s tremendous, blue eyes. “Edgar and I watched as we had a craftsman in an affluent tourist’s shop customize the scales to give them more detail. I told him I was buying it for a man who would know authenticity when he saw it. It took an hour and a half.”

“Are we in competition now?” Will asked, brows knit together slightly. “Should I take your ring back and ask them to make it genuine and unique?”

Hannibal laughed, and shook his head at the idea, then kissed Will for it. “No. I adore my ring as it is. The contrast I was implying was not between your method of selecting a ring and mine, but between the last ring I selected, and the only ring I’ve selected that means anything to me.”

“Okay,” Will said, just wanting it all to be clear, nothing left under the table that they could kick out later. 

Hannibal rested his forehead against Will’s, eyes closed, their hands still joined. He did not want his ring changed, and even if he had said yes, he’d like it customized … he was certain Will would have it customized with something decidedly unflattering in the heat of the moment. “You’ll be happy to know I resisted buying you something with a diamond in it,” he chuckled.

“Thank God,” Will chuckled warmly under his breath.

“The things we do for love…” Hannibal smiled, and kissed Will, again, the man for whom he would forego diamonds, and settle on fish scales, instead.

“Build boats to sail across the sea,” Will sighed, happily, against Hannibal’s mouth letting go of his hands to rub them up his thighs instead.

Hannibal smiled at that, and felt heat curl up his spine at Will’s touch with a heavy sigh. “I do wish I could have seen it.”

“So do I,” Will whispered and kissed Hannibal softly, his fingers drifting over his thighs, to his hips.

Hannibal laid Edgar on the table to snooze, and the puppy stretched out, snoring as Hannibal moved into Will’s lap, arms around his shoulders. “Much better…”

Will’s blue eyes spread dark as he wrapped his arms around Hannibal, head canted up to capture his lips in another kiss, soft and slow.Hannibal kissed Will back, and parted his lips against Will’s to deepen the kiss as he slid one hand down the back of Will’s shirt with a low, pleased hum that resonated in his chest.

“Hannibal…” Will whispered, once again feverish to touch more of his husband’s skin, warmed through by their boat outing, he started to undo the buttons.

Hannibal straddled Will’s legs, and rocked in his lap, able to feel a bulge between Will’s thighs as he did. “Still hungry for more?”

“You’ve made me insatiable for you,” Will replied, pressing his lips against Hannibal’s collarbone as the skin was exposed, and pushed the shirt off his shoulders.

Hannibal shirked the shirt from his arms, and let it fall behind him, onto the table, where Edgar snuggled it in his sleep. “I am always on the menu,” Hannibal murmured against his husband’s lips.

“We’ll get nothing done,” Will groaned, not that they had much to do, they had all the time in the world now out here. He tugged Hannibal’s hips down over his own, rutting up into them.

“Is that a complaint?” Hannibal purred, and undid Will’s shirt as he kissed and bit at Will’s throat, teeth marking his skin.

“Never.” Will craned his head to the side, daring Hannibal to mark him up.

Hannibal groaned and sank his teeth in, over Will’s pulse. He pushed Will’s shirt open, and thumbed his nipples before pinching them. With that, Will tugged on Hannibal’s hair, and kept him right there over his pulse.

Hannibal sucked and sank his teeth in a little more, then moaned and rocked down against Will, both of them hard now, throbbing between their legs. “Will,” Hannibal groaned, panting with bloody lips.

“Your office,” Will grunted, grabbing Hannibal’s ass, and then reaching behind him for the oil off the table.

“Yes,” Hannibal agreed, breathlessly, and stood, slowly, his throbbing erection barely allowing it. He pulled Will up, to kiss him senseless, then pulled him toward the wide staircase, blindly, kissing him all the while.

Will used his free hand to slid down Hannibal’s ass, dragging him ever closer as he back his way up the stairs to the study, all but willing to  _ carry _ Hannibal with him. “Bend you right over that desk…”

There was a low, warning growl to Will’s voice that sent a chill up Hannibal’s spine as they stumbled, shirtless and entangled, to Hannibal’s office. “Just as you longed to?” he asked, undoing Will’s pants quickly as they reached the top of the stairs. He licked the reddened bite mark on the side of Will’s throat, groaning at the taste of his blood.

“Since you told me you wanted it--expected it,” Will agreed, letting his pants hit the ground once again, and then worked Hannibal’s off his slim hips.

Hannibal licked his lips as Will stripped him down, his bare, hairy chest rising and falling hard as he peeled Will’s boxers off. “There were a few moments I could see the rage and attraction battling in your eyes, whether or not you were aware of it…” Hannibal whispered, and let his palms smooth over Will’s ass.

“To have fucked you because I hated you?” Will chuckled, biting Hannibal’s lip, hard. He set the oil down on the desk. “Turn around, hands flat on the desk.”

Hannibal groaned at the hard bite, throbbing and flushed already. The commanding tone of Will’s voice made goosebumps break out over his flesh. “All of that conflicted attraction … it has to go somewhere,” Hannibal said, and turned slowly. He bent to place his palms flat on the glossy surface of his desk,  and his long, toned body stretched itself out, alluringly, perfect legs and ass spread just a little with the stretch.

“Doesn’t it?” Will smiled and bit Hannibal’s shoulder, then down his back, to his hips, hands roving down the other side of his body. “Don’t move.”

Hannibal licked his lips again, eyes dark with lust as he took a slow, deep breath. “And if I move?”

“I’ll bind your hands and tie you to the desk legs…. And leave you there,” Will whispered, hot against Hannibal’s thigh, nosing in against his ass.

Hannibal’s breath caught at the sensation of Will’s breath there, and he bit his own lower lip and stayed perfectly still. “You know precisely how to punish me,” Hannibal whispered. Being bound, being deprived of Will’s company was too much like prison, again. He wanted more of this, more closeness, more of Will’s warmth and his breath as it tickled Hannibal’s sensitive skin.

“Because I know you well,” Will hissed against Hannibal’s balls, brushing his teeth against them, and then his tongue as he made his way toward Hannibal’s entrance.

Hannibal gasped, and his fingers tried to curl against the wood of the desk. Will knew he was sensitive in the truest meaning of the word, his skin would feel the tease of Will’s tongue and make him want to move, which he was forbidden to do. It was delightful torture. “Will…”

“Too much?” Will asked in a sultry tone, running fingers down his thighs, and over his hips. He licked Hannibal’s pucker once.

“No-” Hannibal insisted, breathlessly, and then swore in Lithuanian at the feeling of Will’s tongue against his entrance. Nerves that had not been touched quite like that in decades flared to life.

“Good.” Will pushed Hannibal’s cheeks apart and dipped his tongue inside, all at once.

Hannibal’s head fell forward, and he swore again, darkly, as his fingers curled and his thighs tensed at the warm, slick invasion of Will’s tongue inside him. He could feel tastebuds against nerves that sent fireworks up his spine at every tiny twitch of Will’s mouth. It was nearly blindingly good, already.

Will held Hannibal’s hips tightly, and then pulled them against his tongue, getting him deeper, as much as he could, and slapped Hannibal’s ass just once.

Will had learned, and quickly. Hannibal let Will pull him closer, and groaned as he felt Will’s tongue plunge into his body. The velvety, warm sensation of Will’s mouth was a perfect contrast to the sharp, sudden pain of the slap of Will’s hand. “You .. have the most  _ perfect _ mouth…” Hannibal praised, breathlessly, his cock dripping on the desk already.

Will could do a lot of things if he was shown, just once. He pressed one finger in, reaching for the oil, and slid a little of that in, too.

Hannibal pressed back against and over Will’s finger, gasping as he felt it slip inside him. This was different than their desperate fumbling on the boat. This was deliberate, considered. “Will-”

Will could do far more from this angle, pressing a second finger in slowly, he bit Hannibal’s cheek, sucking the flesh to leave a brushing mark. Then, he slapped the wet skin once.

Will’s teeth … they’d always set Hannibal’s heart racing whenever Will so much as bit his own lip. Feeling them now in the flesh of his ass made Hannibal almost roar with pleasure, the sound building low in his chest and erupting over his lips, wordless and feral. “Wicked boy…” he moaned.

Will grinned against Hannibal’s ass cheek, and then licked his once more, before standing. Slathering his cock, he positioned himself against Hannibal’s entrance and wrapped his arm around his hips, leaning over to whisper in his ear; “Is this how you expected it to be?”

“Yes… and no,” Hannibal whispered back, breathless at the feeling of Will’s cock against his ass, but not inside him yet. “Will-” he groaned, frustrated.

“What then?” Will all but growled, biting Hannibal’s earlobe as he pushed himself inside of his velvety heat.  
“ _Will-_ ” Hannibal snarled, and spread his hands on the desk. His jaw dropped as Will slid into him. He felt larger from this angle, thicker, and Hannibal felt the breath knocked out of his lungs as though he’d hit the surface of the Atlantic all over again. 

Will held Hannibal tight around the hips with his arm, as if carrying through the water, fingers tight against the scar there as he pressed all the way in to the hilt. “Better?” he rasped, breathless himself.

“Yes-” Hannibal whispered, when he could. He pressed back against Will, filling himself with Will’s cock, shamelessly. “Much…” The brand Mason put on his skin shone with sweat as it began to run down the muscle of Hannibal’s back, staying still while Will fucked him took more control than riding him senseless.

Will’s fingers traced down the scar with his free hand, raking over it gently as he fucked Hannibal harder, picking up a faster, more punishing pace. “Too bad it wasn’t me who branded you.”

Hannibal’s back arched sinuously at Will’s touch, and he pressed himself back with every thrust, his cock rubbing against the smooth wood of the desk. He could see a dark reflection of himself in it’s surface, the light behind his head like a halo as Will fucked him. “Would you brand me?”

“Mark you as mine?” Will snarled against Hannibal’s ear, accentuating each word with a thrust of his hips. “Yes.”

“How?” Hannibal asked, brokenly, his arms shaking as Will punctuated his words with the thrust of his cock. His rasping, rough voice was enough to make Hannibal begin to feel himself melt inside, and long to turn his head to kiss Will.

“Heated knife into your skin, or maybe I’ll make my own brand,” Will whispered roughly, biting Hannibal’s shoulder as heat took over his limbs, pushing him to the brink, fucking Hannibal down into the desk.

Will’s teeth sunk into his skin, and blood welled up under his ivory canines, then dripped down Hannibal’s back. Heat flashed through Hannibal’s body, like a wildfire that engulfed an entire forest at once, and he shouted, wordlessly, unable to stop himself from orgasming with a force that shook his body from head to toe as Will marked him with his vicious mouth.

Hannibal’s tight grip on his cock only milked him to the edge of his own orgasm, coming just moment after his husband, hips bucking hard against his ass as he emptied into him, panting and wordlessly cursing under his breath.

Hannibal finally lifted one trembling hand, and laid it over Will’s hand, their rings resting together as blood dripped down Hannibal’s body, onto the floor. Will had once bitten a man’s cheek off, on impulse, Hannibal could feel what Will’s jaws had done to his flesh, and reveled in the pain. 

Will panted against Hannibal’s shoulder, careful not to lick at the wound, eyes closed for the moment as he caught his breath. “I love you.”

Hannibal turned his head, his neck and shoulder aching hard as he did so. He saw blood, vividly red, and Will’s eyes over it. “I love you, Will, more every day,” he whispered, and took a deep breath of the scent of sex and blood in the air. 

Will nuzzled against Hannibal’s neck and then slid out, carefully, offering his hand to walk them to the bathroom to clean them both up. “I didn’t think you could love me more…” he teased.

Hannibal sighed, deeply, and took a moment to straighten, eyes closed with pleasure at the ache all over his body. He took Will’s hand. “I surprise myself,” he quipped, his eyes alight.

Will lead Hannibal to the bathroom just off their bedroom, and sat him down and got out the first aid and clean cloth to blot at the bite. He’d sunk his sharp teeth in deeper than he anticipated. “One way to mark you…”  
Hannibal turned his head to look at the gash, and smiled at it, fondly. “Quite deeply, actually. Another second of that sort of pressure and I may have had to stitch it back in, like Cordell. As it is, it will, eventually, heal into a perfect bite mark.”

Will nuzzled into Hannibal’s neck as he cleaned the spot with the wet cloth first. “Are my apologies needed?”

“Not at all,” Hannibal assured his husband, and admired the bite in the mirror. “So long as it does not become infected, it should become a beautiful reminder of what those teeth of yours can do,” Hannibal said, fondly.

“Better the shoulder than somewhere else,” Will commented, and disinfected the bite and then put a salve from the kit over it.

Hannibal chuckled softly, and watched Will attend to his wound with care in the mirror. “Much better,” Hannibal said, and wound his arm around Will’s waist, holding him close.

Will nuzzled in against Hannibal, and kissed him softly. “You bring out the beast in me.”

Hannibal kissed Will back, letting their lips linger together for a long moment before a bark from the door turned his head. Vincent set the puppy down, having carried him up stairs.

“Good boy, Vincent,” Will said, kissing Hannibal once more, and then went to gather the cute pup in his arms, petting him against his shoulder.   
Hannibal chuckled and looked at Edgar as he yawned in Will’s arms, stretched, and went back to sleep. “Is he alright?” Hannibal asked, with a note of parental concern.

“Yes. He probably woke up and couldn’t find us, so Vincent brought him up to us instead,” Will said, with a little smile, and handed him over to Hannibal.

Hannibal took the puppy he insisted was not his, and held him to his un-harmed shoulder as he felt his little back rise and fall. Edgar nuzzled his nose against Hannibal’s neck, and resumed snoring as soon as he smelled Hannibal’s familiar skin, settling there. Hannibal sighed, “he seems to like the smell of my skin.”

“You are like his mother,” Will teased, pecking Hannibal’s cheek, and then went to find their clothes again, Vincent following.

Hannibal looked after Will, a little aghast, and surprised, “his  _ mother _ ?”

“Surrogate, really,” Will grinned as he picked up their clothes, and set them on the bed. “Did you want to be parents?”

Once again, Will surprised Hannibal with a deft maneuver. Hannibal was silent and still for a moment, watching Will move. “Yes,” he said, without pulling back from his commitment to the answer. “I have always felt that you and I are meant to create our own family, together … however unusual that may be.”

“For now, this is our family then,” Will said with raised brows and pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms.

“For now?” Hannibal asked, as he watched his husband dress, and stood to join him in the bedroom. Hannibal sat on the bed, Edgar still snoring against his neck.

“Until… something comes along,” Will said, with a shrug of his shoulders. Real parent hood still scared him, it wasn’t like Abigail or Walter....

“When the time is right, we’ll know,” Hannibal said, simply, and pulled the covers of the bed down for Will, inviting Will to join him, tacitly.

Will set up a little pillow for the pup and Vincent in the corner, and then crawled into bed with his husband, even if it was just afternoon, being lazy sometimes was wonderful. “We will.”

“Are you hesitant?” Hannibal asked, and snuggled closer to Will, quite happy to lay in bed with him after their vigorous fucking in the office.

“I always will be. I don’t know what sort of father I can be to any child for a long period of time,” Will said, honestly, letting Hannibal curl around him.

“I have no doubt you will not repeat your own father’s mistakes,” Hannibal assured Will, and smiled softly. “From my own experiences, all a parent can hope for is to make their own mistakes. I have faith that given a child you could raise from the beginning, you would be an excellent father.”

“Would I? You were the one that said I knew better than to breed,” Will whispered, non accusingly.

Hannibal smirked at that, and touched the side of Will’s cheek with one hand, affectionately. “This is not a matter of you passing on your genetics, even if we could manage that between us.”

“Could be a matter of parenting though, lending what I know from my own father,” Will suggested, quietly, having never given it this much thought until now.

“You would not be the only father,” Hannibal reminded Will, and stroked his hand over Will’s chest, slowly. “We function well as a team, I cannot imagine that would suddenly cease to be true as parents.”

“I guess being a real parent is… strange, and hard to imagine,” Will admitted.

“I was a parent, of sorts, to my sister for many years,” Hannibal admitted, looking off into the distance. “There is nothing like it.”

“A child of your own is quite different than a sibling,” Will offered, arching back against Hannibal. “Or else I could say I was a parent to my own father.”

“I’m sure you cared for him when no one else would. In that respect, he was your first stray,” Hannibal remarked, and held Will close, enjoying the feeling of their nesting in bed together like this. “A child is more rewarding to care for than an alcoholic parent, they are capable of returning love in a way I am certain your father could not.”

“That might be true,” Will said with a sigh, folding his arm over Hannibal’s. “Walter didn’t really ever see me as his dad.”

“Walter had fond memories of his father, he had powerful psychological incentive to cling to that image. Nothing erases a man’s flaws as completely as an untimely demise. Moreover, I doubt very much Walter wanted his father replaced by any man, I doubt it was personal.”

“It wasn’t, not until he found Freddie Lounds’ article on me. He wanted me to kill the Dragon, and he looked at me like I was insane, at the same time,” Will whispered, taking a deep breath. “I knew then nothing was going to be normal in my life. No matter how much I tried.”

“Children are adept at seeing the truth in a way that most adults cannot. Walter saw what you were, he could see the places that the mask of normalcy did not fit to your features. You did kill the dragon, Will. Is it normalcy you crave, or acceptance?” Hannibal asked. “I would find normalcy irritating, like an itchy sweater, or a pair of shoes that rubbed in all the wrong spots, grating at me with every step.”

“I don’t crave either one anymore,” Will sighed, and rolled over to look at Hannibal. “I’ve find found my acceptance.”

“Then we will build our own normalcy,” Hannibal said softly as they looked at one another, “our family can be whatever we wish it to be, Will. You and I are wolves, Will, and not bound by the conventions that rule the flock. A pack of two could become anything,” he promised Will. They would never be average, or mundane, but they could have their own content balance, their own comfort at home.

Their family would be what they made of it; two dogs and them, or more if they found it. Will threw his leg up and around Hannibal's hip. “Anything…”

Hannibal ran his hand over Will’s back as they snuggled together. “Anything,” Hannibal smiled, knowingly. “Are you imagining how many dogs we might fit into the house?”

“Maybe,” Will said quietly, chuckling under his breath.

“I’m not surprised,” Hannibal hummed, and stroked his fingers through Will’s hair as his shoulder wound began to dry in the warm air. “Do keep in mind we will have to keep your boat to scale, should we need to leave in a hurry.”

“I know, I’m slowly working on making it better,” Will reassured his husband. “Improvements.”

“I don’t suppose a kitchen on board would be possible?” Hannibal asked, and batted his whiskey-colored eyes just a little. The light from their bedroom windows lit his eyelashes up, translucent and silvery.

“It has one, it’s just very small,” Will pointed out, canting his head at Hannibal, and touched his lashes with one finger. 

Hannibal smiled, and even blushed at the tender touch. “With a stove?” he asked, and listened to Edgar snore.

“It’s a very small stove with a very small oven,” Will whispered, rubbing his thumb over the high curve of Hannibal’s cheekbone, over the small scar there.

“I had to cook on a hot plate in prison,” Hannibal chuckled, and snuggled his face against Will’s hand, eyes closing, like he was a large, content cat. “I prepared sanguinaccio dolce for Frederick…”

Will snorted lightly at that. “He could never leave well enough alone. Got his in the end.”

“You made certain of that,” Hannibal said, approvingly, and smiled at Will. “I published a rebuttal of his book. Frederick did not like that, at all. He stormed into my area and said I would rot away in the institution until I was toothless and old, and the other inmates used me for sex,” Hannibal said. 

“Did he?” Will asked,  eyes narrowing a little bit. “He deserved more than he got then.”

“To be turned into a Peking Frederick for making a rude comment about me?” Hannibal asked, with a little smile, inwardly pleased that Will’s instinct was a sort of protective anger.

Will moved in closer and kissed Hannibal soundly on the lips, hooking his arm under Hannibal’s, gripping his shoulder gently. “He should have died.”

Hannibal chuckled, and brushed his lips over Will’s after he spoke. “Death would have been less painful than years of skin grafts, and the slow peel of dead tissue off of raw nerves that will never stop burning, not completely,” Hannibal assured his husband.

“A shame we’ll never see how he recovers,” Will sighed, squeezing himself around Hannibal, closer and closer, until they were chest to chest.

“I’m certain a photograph or two of him will surface on Tattlecrime,” Hannibal mused, and nuzzled Will’s face, brushing their noses together, slowly. “Come to think of it, I haven’t looked at the site in weeks.”

“I haven’t wanted to,” Will sighed, though they should keep up to see exactly where the FBI thought they might be, if alive were even the option anymore.  
Hannibal chuckled, and kissed Will, softly. “Unpleasant as it is, it’s best we are aware of what Jack might be planning next, besides, I’m curious about our funeral services.”

Will wasn’t, but he reached over Hannibal anyway to grab the acquired tablet he bought when they got there. He sat up and turned it on to bring up the website.

Hannibal sat up slowly, with Will, and leaned against Will’s shoulder as the latest headline flashed across the screen. “MURDER HUSBANDS IN HIDING? ONE EXPERT SAYS THEY FAKED THEIR DEATHS.”   
  
Under the headline was an image of Bedelia, zoomed in from a great distance, with packed bags, climbing a staircase to a privately hired small plane. 

“Doesn’t say where she’s going,” Will said, quietly, part of him wondering if they would risk the travel. Bedelia had it coming.

Hannibal took a closer took at the plane, and pointed to a very, very blurry word on the tail. “Aloha… it means goodbye and hello, at the same time,” he sighed, and kissed the side of Will’s temple.

Will hadn’t noticed that at first, and canted his head. Hawaii was a bit far from here to be sailing, honestly, and they couldn’t really travel by plane, not just yet. “A shame.”

“You’d like to travel all the way there just for a reckoning?” Hannibal asked, and laid his hand against Will’s back, again.

“Maybe not anytime soon,” Will said, enjoying their life here. “If we were forced to leave though…”

Hannibal watched Will, knowingly. “Then you would want to take up the hunt,” Hannibal said, and used his long fingers to untangle Will’s wayward curls at the back of his head.

“Wouldn’t you?” Will asked, setting the tablet aside to curl up against Hannibal once more.

“It would be lovely,” Hannibal agreed, and held Will to his uninjured shoulder. “Especially if we were to prepare her together,” he whispered against Will’s ear, obviously harboring no sentimental attachment for Bedelia.

“You wouldn’t mind?” Will asked, aware it was a lot to ask, considering Will’s feelings on not eating his ex wife.

Bedelia was hardly a sweet, innocent victim caught in the cross-hairs. Hannibal laughed, and shook his head, then kissed Will. “I would have eaten her in Italy, had she not poisoned herself.”

“That would have put me off eating her as well,” Will said with a can of his head, smiling at his husband.

“I’m sure she’s clean now, however,” Hannibal said, and kissed the side of Will’s neck. “But hardly worth leaving all of this behind if we do not have to.”

“Exactly, and only if we had to leave this all, of course.” Will wouldn’t dream of disrupting what they had here just for Bedelia, she’d find herself feeling far too happy with that notion.

“Did you see her, before we left?” Hannibal asked, curiously, and laid down in bed again, his arms outstretched for Will to join him on their lazy, hot afternoon.

“I saw her… often,” Will said, curling to face Hannibal, resting his head against his arm. “An attempt to keep me grounded and inside of your head all at once. I can’t say it worked.”

“Is that really why?” Hannibal asked with a little smile, and snuggled against Will. “Did you enjoy feeling her jealousy and resentment? She knew, from the very moment I first mentioned you in therapy, that I loved you.”

“I wanted insight, things she didn’t tell her books, things you did in Italy, I can’t say she said much,” Will whispered, like a secret. “But she did say enough.”

Hannibal nuzzled the side of Will’s face, and kissed his skin, softly. “Enough for you to guess at what I felt for you?”

“Yes. From there I formed a plan,” Will said, and smiled at Hannibal. “She wasn’t happy.”

“Were you surprised?” Hannibal asked as he gazed at the way Will smiled at him. It was genuine, as soft as Will’s old flannel shirts had been, worn in over the years. 

“I… no. Surprised in myself, is a better explanation for it,” Will chuckled lightly. “I didn’t connect it completely until then.”

“What did you imagine I felt for you, in that case?” Hannibal asked, and smiled at his somewhat oblivious empath.

“Kinship?” Will frowned a little, shrugging one shoulder. “I guess I didn’t want to see the obvious. I’d never loved a man, was never attracted to one… until you.”

Hannibal smiled at that, and touched Will’s cheek, “we are, both of us, exceptions to one another,” he admitted. 

Will had hated himself a little bit for loving Hannibal when he realized, but once he thought he might be dead, well, things changed, he realized he couldn’t live without him at all. “We are.”

They had tried separating, many times, in many ways. Hannibal had accepted, back in Florence, that he would never be happy without Will, no matter what else he had. “We have no control with respect to whom we love.”

“Very true,” Will sighed, and kissed Hannibal again “I never saw it coming.”

“Nor did I,” Hannibal whispered back, and kissed Will slowly and deeply, then pulled back just enough to look at him. “I was struck the first moment I laid eyes on you, and your irritable disposition.”

Will laughed from deep in his chest, and nuzzled Hannibal. “To think I gave that disposition off to scare people away…”

“I could tell,” Hannibal chuckled, and held Will. “Like a beautiful, snarling wild thing. I loved you immediately.”

“Really?” Will questioned, bow raised incredulously.

“Without a doubt,” Hannibal said with a smile in his eyes, but he meant every word. “I had, until then, dismissed the idea of love at first sight as a myth … until I very nearly dropped my cup of coffee in Jack’s office.”

Will smiled back, and wrapped himself around Hannibal. “And you waited this long for me…”

“Years, and you’ve finally caught up,” he teased, softly, with a kiss. 

“Finally,” Will agreed touching Hannibal's face softly. Everything had finally come back together.


End file.
